


God, Torture, and the Love of the Winchesters

by this_is_madness



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Apocalypse, F/M, M/M, Season 11, Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicidal hallucinations, Suicide, Supernatural - Freeform, Torture, attempted suicide, dean/cas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-06-09 17:26:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 46,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6916549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_is_madness/pseuds/this_is_madness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate Season 11 ending taking place immediately after the events of 11.18 when Amara captures Lucifer!Cas and begins to torture him. In this alternate ending, Cas and Dean finally admit that they love each other. They also battle the Darkness and attempt to save the world yet again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Whether it’s been hours or days or months or years of Amara’s torture, Cas does not know. Can’t really make himself care. The torture isn’t aimed at him, just Lucifer. Cas doesn’t feel a thing. He doesn’t know why Amara is sparing him, but he can’t make himself care. He can vaguely hear Amara’s questions, Lucifer’s answers, but he primarily attempts to tune them out as he tries to rearrange the kitchen back into some order after Lucifer threw Crowley around. Every time he touches something, Dean’s voice flashes through his head briefly, screaming Cas’ name as Dean had moments or days or years before and Cas almost makes himself focus. But as Dean’s voice fades, so does his motivation. Eventually, he gets the kitchen back in order and returns to his TV. He messes with the rabbit ear antennae, the picture stays slightly blurry. 

“Bad reception,” he murmurs to himself, trying to tweak it just right. An image flashes across the screen in perfect clarity for a fraction of a second and gives Cas slight pause. Green eyes. He’d caught the green eyes of the image, and nothing else. He twists the metal transmitters a couple more times before deciding it is as good as it’s going to get, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. 

Faintly, at the back of his mind, he can hear Lucifer and Amara’s battle. 

“Come save your son,” Amara practically begs God, and Lucifer laughs. 

“He doesn’t care,” Lucifer tells her and Cas, if he tries to focus, can see the hurt in her eyes, the disbelief. 

“He made you,” she tells Lucifer and this time, Cas joins in with Lucifer’s bitter laughter. 

“He doesn’t care,” Lucifer reiterates. 

There’s crashing and Cas grimaces as the picture on his tiny TV reverts back to complete fuzziness. 

“Come on,” he exclaims, exasperated. 

He leans forward to attempt to fix it once again and green eyes flash before him, this time accompanied by a voice. 

“Cas!” The voice is urgent and moves Cas into a standing position. It’s Dean’s voice, he knows. Innately, he knows. He would always know that voice. “Castiel!”

Cas tries to focus harder, can see the scene before his vessel. Amara has taken Lucifer to a warehouse, it seems. Dean and Sam stand a couple yards away. Cas is surprised to see that only Sam is armed. Dean stands a couple feet in front of Sam, staring at him—at Cas. Cas tries to say something, but finds he cannot. 

“Little Cassie’s awake,” Lucifer’s voice coos in his head. “Shush, little brother. I’ve got everything under control.”

Before him, Cas can see Amara turn to stare at Dean. It’s silent for minutes on end before Amara speaks. 

“I don’t understand,” her voice is nearly a whimper. 

“Don’t understand what?” Sam demands from behind Dean. 

“Sammy,” Dean warns, always the protector. 

“You…You’re soul…I can feel it,” Amara tells them, and Cas can see the terror on Sam’s face, the recognition coloring Dean’s. 

“I know,” Dean nods. 

“We’re…bonded and I can feel your soul…tearing,” Amara sounds as if she’s almost in pain. “It’s worse up close. I noticed it before, in the church…but…I don’t understand.”

“We were bound together when the Mark was broken, right?” Dean inquires, in an oddly serene way given the situation. Cas doesn’t understand the look in Dean’s eyes, the obvious pain. Dean always feels pain, Cas knows. But somehow, this was different. If he had full control of his mind and body, Cas knows he would be able to decipher the meaning behind Dean’s specific agony, but the taunting laughter still echoing inside his mind is a constant reminder of the contrary. He cannot focus, he cannot think of how to help Dean, the green eyes. Green eyes. 

“Yes,” Amara confirms. 

“I was already bound,” Dean says very slowly. Amara stiffens slightly and watches like a hawk as Dean slowly slides his jacket from his shoulders, his flannel shirt too, until he is left in just a black t-shirt. He rolls his sleeve up to show Amara the handprint. Cas’ handprint. Seeing it, Cas can feel the energy, the bond, yet he still cannot focus, cannot think of the simple step he must take to help the man he gave up everything for. 

“This…this little angel,” Amara glances back at Cas briefly. “The one beneath Lucifer.”

It’s not a question, rather an accusation. 

“Yes,” Dean nods. 

“That is why you refuse me?” Amara asks again. 

“Yes,” Dean agrees. 

“But you’re weak,” Amara shakes her head, disbelieving. “You cannot resist me. You will choose me.”

“I won’t,” Dean tells her. “I won’t. You can…you can feel what I feel, right?”

Amara is silent for a few long moments again, seemingly concentrating, before responding, “Yes. I’m tearing you apart. I’m tearing your soul apart. Your pain…it’s overwhelming.”

Cas can’t focus on the green eyes and looks to the brother behind the green eyes, who stares at the green eyes with a pained look all his own. Sam, Cas knows. This must be hard for Sam.

“You…you feel,” Amara takes a deep breath. “You feel…so much. You feel so much for this…this tiny angel.”

“Please,” Dean took a small step towards her, raising his hands to show his submission. “Don’t hurt him.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Amara tells him. “For you. I was sparing him. But…he threatens our bond.”

Dean freezes, and Amara gasps. “Ah!” she screams out. “Stop!”

Sam looks confused and Cas feels groggy as he watches the scene before him, watches Amara wince away as Dean takes a step closer. 

“Please, don’t hurt him,” Dean asks again, his voice low and panicked. 

“I won’t,” Amara agrees immediately, and sags a little before straightening and staring at Dean with a look akin to horror. “You’re…strong.”

“Amara,” Dean takes another step. “Just…let Cas go. Please. Please, I’m begging you.”

“Your words hurt,” Amara sounds still surprised. “Why do they hurt?”

“Because they hurt to say,” Dean tells her. “You feel what I feel. If you want the pain to stop, you’ll give me Cas.”

“If I give you the tiny angel,” Amara sounds almost to the point of agreeing, but shakes her head instead. “You’ll choose me, Dean. You have to.”

“I’ll choose you,” Dean nods and Sam takes a step forward. Pain splits through Cas as Dean says this, and for a moment, Cas can see almost clearly, can almost grasp the words, the thoughts he would need to say in order to stop it all. 

“You will?” Amara doesn’t sound certain. 

“If you let him go,” Dean adds. “Me for him. Me for Cas.”

“The pain will stop? The…the feelings? Your feelings? For this angel? They’ll…stop?” Amara doesn’t sound convinced. 

“No,” Dean admits. 

“What if I rid you of his mark? Of his brand?” Amara takes a step forward and this time Dean retreats. 

“The bond isn’t the handprint, Amara,” Dean tells her. “You know that.”

Amara slowly nods. “It cannot be broken, your…choice. You’re choosing to…what is it you call it? Love? You’re choosing to love him.”

“He’s family,” Dean agrees. 

“No,” Amara shakes her head, taking another step closer to Dean. “It’s not that.”

Dean doesn’t take a step back this time, but glances instead towards Sam a little, who looks ready to pounce. 

“No,” Dean agrees, turning from Sam to speak directly to Amara. 

“It’s powerful,” Amara acknowledges. “I don’t understand it.”

“I know,” Dean nods. “That’s why I can’t choose you.”

“I don’t understand how something so small as your love can be so powerful,” Amara murmurs, closing in on Dean, placing a hand on his cheek. “I weaken your defenses, yes. But I should be able to make you submit. Yet, I cannot.”

“No,” Dean leans into her palm a little. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t understand the differences in your emotions,” her voice is almost at a whimper again. “They’re too strong to distinguish.”

“It’s simple,” he murmurs to her. Had Cas not been a celestial being, he’s sure he would not have heard, and he was sure that Sam couldn’t quite hear either, for the concerned and confused look on his face. “It’s a one-word difference. ‘In’.”

“In?” Amara doesn’t understand. “In? How can ‘in’ be the difference?” She frowns for moments on end before it clicks for her. “Oh. Love. In love. They’re different.”

“Very,” Dean nods. 

“You’re in love with the angel,” Amara finally speaks full volume, stepping back from Dean as if slapped. The effect of her words on Cas are immediate: clarity. He can see, focus. 

“Get out.” It starts slow, quiet, at the back of his mind but builds until he can hear himself physically yelling. “Get out!”

With a flash of white hot light, it seems as if the room implodes as Cas manages, desperately, to cast Lucifer out. When the light settles, Amara looks stunned. 

“No,” she cries, then screams, “No! I have to get him back! He’s the only way.”

With a brief look at Dean, she vanishes. 

“Cas!” Dean breathes before rushing to him, just in time to wrap Cas’ arm around his shoulder as Cas crumbles slightly. “Sam, help me out!” 

Sam rushes forward, lifting Cas the rest of the way into a standing position. 

“Cas,” Dean tries again. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Cas roughly grumbles, sagging a little more. “I…I don’t know if you…if you know this…but Lucifer is exhausting.” Cas manages to tilt his head towards Sam. “You know,” he says and Sam offers a breathy laugh. 

“Yeah, I do,” Sam nods. “Come on. We’re taking you home, you idiot.”

They drag him to the car, shoving him into the back seat. Dean’s foot slams on the gas the minute Sam’s door closes and they’re rocketing home. The drive is silence and Cas allows himself to lay down in the back seat, closing his eyes. 

“I think he’s unconscious,” Sam tells Dean after a few minutes, and Dean groans. Cas can hear the gears shift in the engine as Dean’s foot undoubtedly urges it to go faster. 

“So uh…” Sam clears his throat. “Are we going to talk about what just happened?”

“Nope,” Dean instantly replies. 

“Alright, back to denial,” Sam replies with a small, almost bitter laugh. “That’s healthy.”

“You know me,” Dean replies curtly. “Poster boy of mental health.”

“That’s not funny,” Sam retorts darkly. 

“Agree to disagree,” Dean replies. 

“What she said…about how…how much pain you’re in—“ Sam begins but Dean cuts him off.

“Sam, stop,” he snaps. “One thing at a time. We’re getting Cas home.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sam presses.

“Sam, seriously,” Dean barks again. “Enough. We’re not having this conversation.”

“When you thought I was dead,” Sam begins again, minutes later, disregarding Dean. “What did you do? Because I…you haven’t been right. Not for a while, but especially not after that.”

“Sammy, so help me God, I will make you walk the rest of the way,” Dean warns. 

“It’s ten miles,” Sam scoffs. 

“Test me,” Dean dares, and Sam stays quiet until they pull up. Dean’s door slams, then Sam’s, and then Cas’s swings open. Cas manages to open his eyes, looks up at the green eyes staring back at his. 

“Dean,” he croaks and Dean nods. 

“Yeah, come on.” Dean helps Cas stumble from the car, wrapping a tight arm around his waist, while his other hand rests steadily on his shoulder. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I just kicked an archangel out of my vessel,” Cas replies honestly. 

“Apt, Cas,” Sam says from behind them. 

They burst in through the front door of the Bunker and Dean helps Cas down the stairs and into the bedroom that Cas began to think of as his own. “Okay, you’re in your room,” Dean half-tosses Cas onto the bed and Cas groans. Dean leans over a little, hands on his hips. “God, you’re heavy.”

“Well, you could’ve let me help,” Sam points out from the doorway. “Like, at all.”

Dean shoots him a look, then looks back at Cas for a long moment. Cas sits up, opens his mouth. Before he can say a word, Dean manages, “Alright, well, rest up for a little while Cas. Come out when you’re feeling up to it.” Dean exits the room before Cas can manage to say anything. 

Sam gives him a small smile from the doorway. “That’s probably fairly sound advice.”

“He’s…” Cas can’t find words. 

“He’s a lot of things,” Sam replies. “And better now that we’ve got you back.”

Sam turns to go, but Cas calls him back. “Sam, wait.”

Sam raises his eyebrows, his invitation to continue. 

“I’m sorry,” Cas manages. 

Sam shrugs a little. “We’ve all been there.” He walks away, too, before Cas can answer.


	2. Chapter 2

Cas spends a few hours resting, though he cannot sleep, not for lack of want. However, since getting his grace back, he’d been denied those small human niceties. However, he often would rest his eyes and remember sleeping, remember dreaming. One dream in particular was his favorite. It is a dream he borrowed from Dean, one he’d eavesdropped on once long, long before. A quiet, serene pond with a long, warm dock. A single chair where Dean sits, a fishing pole in hand. In his human days, Cas would dream that he was simply there with Dean, sitting on the dock. Just sitting. Not worrying, just sitting there. In peace. 

After hours of thinking of only that, Cas feels remarkably better. His grace takes care of most of the major damages, but he is still tired and feels vaguely hollow. He heads out, heading to the library where he knows Sam and Dean most likely are, where they usually are. As he approaches the room, he can hear a soft conversation between the two, at the tail end. 

“—I’m just saying,” Sam tells his brother. “I’m supportive. You don’t want to talk to me about the overwhelming pain you feel, that’s fine. But…can we at least talk about this…I’ll put it delicately for you: this _bond_ you and Cas share? It physically hurt Amara, Dean. I saw it.”

“Just…a minute to breathe.” Dean replies and the ache in his voice makes Cas falter. “It’s been punch after punch, man. With the…the freaking werewolves…and all that, and then finding Cas and losing him and finding him again. It’s been a rollercoaster. This is a win. Can we just take a moment to breathe, Sammy?”

It is silent as Cas enters, and both of the brothers look at him with varying levels of concern and appraisal. Cas meets Sam’s eyes first, then Dean’s. He finds he can’t look away until Dean breaks the contact, looking down at his hands as Cas takes a seat at the table. 

“You feeling any better?” Sam asks and Cas nods. 

“I’m…weary,” Cas rubs his neck a little. “Luckily, as an angel, I bounce back from angel possession relatively quickly.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Sam nods, but frowns. “Listen, Cas…”

“What the hell, man?” Dean looks up from his hands and Cas can see the emotions rioting beneath his controlled façade, the emotion that hurt Amara, was too strong for the sister of God. “You said yes…to Lucifer? What the hell were you thinking?”

Cas sighs, this time looking down at his hands before meeting their eyes again. “I don’t…I don’t know. It seemed a good idea in the moment. I…I figured out of the three of us, I was the most…the most expendable. So, I took a risk. Obviously, bad choice.”

“Yeah, especially since Lucifer is obviously not strong enough to even beat Amara,” Sam adds. 

“And even if he was, you think destroying yourself in that process was okay?” Dean’s anger bleeds into the tone he is obviously trying to force into neutrality. “Cas. You are not expendable.”

“Oh, come on,” Cas throws up his hands. “Like you’ve never sacrificed yourself. That’s Winchester 101. I learned from the best.”

“We’re really bad examples to learn from,” Sam tells Cas but Dean is silent, so Cas continues. 

“Look, I made a mistake,” Cas agrees after a moment. “It was a miscalculation. But you sacrifice yourself for us more often than not. I thought…I’d take the blunt of it this time.”

“I don’t sacrifice myself,” Dean tries, but it’s too soft a reply to sound weighty. 

“What happened with the werewolves?” Cas inquires and Dean stiffens. 

“Ears like a freaking bat,” he mutters. 

“We took a job when we couldn’t find any way to locate you,” Sam explains. “We got into a rough situation. I got shot, Dean thought I died. We got separated and Dean refuses to tell me exactly what happened while we were separated.”

“Nothing!” Dean snaps. “Nothing happened. I knew you weren’t dead.”

“That’s bullshit.” Sam throws up his hands, turns to Cas. “It’s the fact that he won’t tell me that frightens me the most. Had he summoned a demon, he’d have told me by now.”

“Summoning a demon wouldn’t have worked,” Dean retorts, rolling his eyes. “Not after that freaking reaper.”

“So, what did you do?” Sam asks again and Dean looks at him angrily, eyes flashing to Cas and then dropping. He sighs. 

“It’s not a big deal,” he starts and Sam snorts. 

“Then why haven’t you told me?” 

“Because I know how you’ll react,” Dean sighs again. “I thought you’d died. I wasn’t going to let you die like that. A whole freaking war’s going on, and you get got by a gun shot? No. So…I needed to talk with Billy the reaper.”

“Dean…” Cas takes in a breathe as he realizes what Dean’s getting at. 

“Yeah, okay,” Dean rolls his eyes. “But that was the only way. So…I swallowed a handful of pills.”

Dean looks up to see similar looks of horror on Cas and Sam’s face. “See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you!” he exclaims. 

“And here you’re getting angry at Cas for thinking he’s expendable?” Sam stands, shoving back his chair. “You were going to kill yourself for something that you knew wasn’t going to work.”

“I…” Dean shakes his head. “I…I thought you were gone, Sammy…Cas was gone. Everyone’s gone: Dad, Bobby, Kevin…Charlie. What was stopping me from taking that chance?”

Everyone is silent. Cas can see that Dean thinks the silence means they can’t think of arguments against killing himself, while Cas knows that both he and Sam have too many to even put into words. 

“But…” Dean begins slowly. “I talked to Billy, I was revived, Sam didn’t die, and now Cas is back. What’s the problem? I told you it wasn’t a big deal.”

“Dean…” Cas tries but Dean holds up a hand. 

“No, Cas,” he shakes his head. “Let’s all just forget about it.”

“I can’t,” Sam tells him. 

“You’ll have to,” Dean stands. “Sammy, I…I can’t talk about it anymore.”

“Why?” Sam pleads. 

“It’s…I…it’s too much. It’s too much,” Dean shoves up from his chair and starts to walk away, but Cas leaps up and grabs his arm. Dean freezes beneath his touch, and Cas looks to Sam. 

“Sam…can you give us a moment?” 

Sam sighs but smiles slightly, carding a hand through his hair and nodding. “Yeah. No problem.”

When Sam is gone, Dean sighs heavily. “Cas…”

“Dean, I’m sorry,” Cas cuts him off. 

“You…I know, man,” Dean nods. 

“No, not about saying yes to Lucifer,” Cas corrects. “Though, I regret that as well. I’m sorry for thinking that I’m expendable. Clearly, I’m not.”

“Of course you’re not,” Dean agrees, looking down at Cas’s hand that still grips his arm. Cas notices the look, but does not let go, nor loosen his hold. 

“I know that I’ve made mistakes,” Cas tells him. “And I know that after this, I may not disserve your confidence. But Dean, you need to talk to me.”

“Cas, I don’t trust you any less for this,” Dean tells him. “I think we’re past the point of not trusting each other just because we’re all idiots.”

“I’ve hurt you,” Cas states and Dean doesn’t deny it, just shrugs. 

“Well, that’s what you get when you care,” Dean murmurs. 

Cas stares at him for a long, hard moment. “Dean…Caring isn’t a bad thing.”

“I know,” Dean nods. “It’s not bad. But it does open you up for a little more pain. But…I don’t know, it’s worth it, right?”

“Yes,” Cas agrees and wants to say more, wants to comment on what he isn’t sure Dean knows he know. 

“Are we done with this touchy feely crap?” Dean questions. “Because I was going to start cooking up some grub for Sam and I.”

Cas wants to find a way to bring it up, knows that Dean will recoil, as he does. Avoid. Deny. Instead Cas nods, let’s go of Dean’s arm and Dean leaves. Cas sits heavily in a chair and rubs his palm across his face. He’s surprised when he looks up and sees Sam leaning in the doorway. 

“You didn’t tell him?” Sam asks softly, entering the room and sitting across from Cas. 

“Tell him what?” To this, Sam simply raises his eyebrows and Cas sighs, adding. “No.”

“Why not?” Sam presses and Cas offers him a somewhat scathing look. 

“You know him,” Cas finally shrugs. 

“I know both of you,” Sam agrees. “And let me just tell you that if there was one thing that I think I’ve come to know about the two of you is that you both are madly in love with each other and both too stupid to see it.”

Cas is astonished. “What?”

“Oh, come on, Cas! I’ve been watching the two of you for the better part of seven years. You both need to grow a pair and talk to each other.”

Cas chuckles a little. “Sure, Sam,” he nods. “We will.”

“No, I mean now,” Sam states, standing and pulling Cas to his feet and walking Cas to the door of the kitchen, pushing him inside. Dean raises his eyebrows from where he leans to stare into the fridge. 

“Talk,” Sam commands before leaving. 

“I’m going to kill him,” Dean grumbles, slamming the fridge door shut.

“I love you,” Cas replies and Dean freezes, looking like he wants to make a break for the door. Cas takes a step forward. “In love, I mean. I’m in love with you. Too.”

Dean doesn’t react for a long moment and the silence passes by tensely until finally he manages, “Did…did Sam tell you to say that?”

Cas rolls his eyes. “Dean, no. He told me to grow a pair and talk to you.” 

“He needs to stop meddling,” Dean grumbles, leaning back against the counter and carding a hand through his hair. 

“He has good intentions,” Cas points out, taking a step closer. “Dean…I…I know that you…That this may be too much, too soon. And I don’t need anything from you, I hope you know…I just…I just wanted to tell you—“

Before he could finish the thought, Dean surges forward and grabs Cas’s face in his hands, leaning in until their lips are almost touching where he pauses, waiting for permission. Cas closes the small gap between them and slips his hand up Dean’s arm, resting his hand on the mark he’d given the man years before as he saved his soul. A spike of heat jolts from Cas’ handprint to Cas’ hand and both men jump, pulling away slightly to stare down at where Cas’ hand now hovers above Dean’s shirt. 

“What the hell?” Dean mutters. 

“Did that hurt you?” Cas inquires nervously. 

“No,” Dean shakes his head. “It was a little…startling, but it didn’t hurt. Did it hurt you?”

“No,” Cas shakes his head as well. “Interesting.”

Dean rolls his eyes at Cas, and Cas leans his forehead against Dean’s for a moment. 

“Are you…okay?” Dean asks quietly, hesitantly. “With…this, I mean.”

“Yes,” Cas pulls away from Dean slightly so he can make sure Dean’s looking into his eyes as he nods, continuing, “I’m very okay with this. This is better than okay…this is…best case scenario.”

“Really?” Dean chuckles a little. “Best case scenario is that we’re fighting a war that we started to save the world, but hey, at least we’re together?” Dean pauses, then nods. “Alright, now that I say it out loud, that sort of is a best case scenario.”

Cas nods, leaning in to press his lips against Dean’s for a moment before pulling back. “Weren’t you cooking dinner?” 

Dean sighs, smiles, understands the silent suggestion of time. Cas wants to do so much more to Dean than just kiss, but he also believes that whatever they are doing is fragile, and must be handled with the utmost care. “Yeah,” Dean nods. “I guess I was. Or at least, trying to figure out what we have that I can throw together.”

“I miss your cooking,” Cas comments as they break apart, Cas leaning against the counter and Dean heading back to stare into the fridge. “I was only human for a short time, and I only had your cooking once or twice, but it was a treat.”

“I’ve always liked cooking,” Dean shrugs, standing with his back to Cas as he washes his hands. “I learned when I was a kid, and I always liked doing it because it meant that we had food. Enough to actually make something, to make Sammy a real meal. I tried teaching Sam, but he was always too precise. He hated that I didn’t use recipes.”

“Will you teach me?” Cas inquires. 

Dean glances back with raised eyebrows. “I would, dude, don’t get me wrong. But you kind of need to be able to taste the food, not just the molecules.”

Cas pouts, but nods. “I guess,” he concedes. 

“I’ll teach you other things instead,” Dean offers, grinning and winking. Cas blushes, but smiles too. Dean turns back to his task of drying his hands, and then pulls a few things from the freezer: a roll of frozen burger patties and a package of frozen buns. 

“Why is the food frozen?” Cas inquires. 

“The meat is frozen because otherwise it would all melt together in the fridge and I’d have to reshape the patties. These old fridges don’t keep the meat as cold as I’d like. I wouldn’t mind just plain ground beef, but we don’t eat here enough for that to be worth buying. The buns are frozen so that they don’t get moldy when we’re gone for a while.”

“How do you get the buns to thaw before you’re ready to eat?” Cas frowns deeply. 

“You toast them,” Dean replies, then clarifies when he sees Cas’s confused face. “In a toaster.”

Cas eventually nods. “How did I not learn any of this when I was human?”

“I feel like you had other things on your mind,” Dean chuckles. “There was a war going on.”

“There always is,” Cas agrees. 

“Why are we always on the frontline, too?” Dean sighs. 

“Because we’re idiots,” Cas laughs and Dean nods. 

“I guess,” he replies, beginning to prepare the stove. Cas walks over to stand next to him, finding the simple task of cooking fascinating, especially when Dean was the one doing it. 

“Can I ask more questions?” Cas inquires. 

“You just did,” Dean points out with a grin. 

“Can I ask more questions?” Cas repeats. 

“You just did—you know what, never mind. Yeah, Cas,” Dean laughs. “You can ask questions.”

“What are you doing?” 

Dean pulled out a plastic container that he now puts the two burger patties in. He sprinkles a little olive oil over the patties, and starts pulling spices from the cabinets. “I’m seasoning the burger,” he clarifies. “Plus, I’m adding a little olive oil to them. They get oily enough on their own when you throw them on the pan, but the olive oil makes them taste better, and stops them from drying out. Sam loves them like this.”

“Do you like them as much as Sam?” Cas asks. 

“Not as much as Sam, no, but I like them enough,” Dean nods.

“What spices are you using?” Cas inquires next. 

“Old Bay, cumin, a little oregano, some garlic powder,” Dean narrates in turn as he pours a little of each on both patties. 

“Why?”

Dean sighs. “It makes them taste good, Cas. Just assume that the answer to most of your why cooking questions is that it makes the food taste good.”

“If I’m being annoying, I can go,” Cas offers and Dean shakes his head, turning to Cas. 

“You’re not being annoying,” Dean tells him, leaning forward to kiss Cas briefly. “I like the company.”

Cas smiles. “Thank you.”

A moment passes as Dean works in silence, and when he turns on the stove to start preheating the pan, Cas begins his inquiries anew. 

“How do you know the pan is hot enough?”

“I just know,” Dean replies. “It’s a couple seconds, then you put the burgers on. It’s not an exact science.”

“How do you know the burgers are cooked all the way through?” Cas asks next. 

“You split the middle of one and make sure the insides aren’t really pink,” Dean shrugs. 

“Dean, that seems an unreliable test,” Cas tells him. “You can get serious illnesses from undercooked burgers, I’ve read about it.”

“You’ve read about it?” Dean scoffs. 

“Yes,” Cas nods. “Sam keeps some very interesting health magazines. Undercooked beef can lead to food borne illness.”

“Alright, I changed my mind,” Dean frowns at Cas. “Get out of my kitchen.”

“I just don’t want you or your brother to get sick,” Cas tries again. 

“Out,” Dean reiterates, pointing. Cas pouts as he walks from the kitchen and heads back into the library. Sam sits with his nose in a book, and glances up only when Cas takes a seat across from him. 

“Dean kicked me out of the kitchen,” Cas complains. 

“So the talk didn’t go well?” Sam frowns deeply. 

“No, the talk went fine,” Cas tells him. “He kicked me out when I started talking about food borne illness.”

“I’m assuming he was cooking, or did that just come up naturally?” Sam laughs. 

“He’s making burgers,” Cas nods. 

“Oh, the olive oil burgers?” Sam’s face lights up when Cas nods. “Yes! Those are my favorite.”

“I believe that’s why he’s making them,” Cas nods, and Sam’s face softens.

“You know, I always wished I could cook like Dean,” Sam tells Cas. 

“He said he tried to teach you, but you were frustrated by his lack of precision,” Cas offers and Sam scoffs. 

“He doesn’t use a cookbook, Cas,” Sam exclaims. “He just throws things together and they turn out awesome. Not everyone has that talent. I wanted a tried and true approach.”

“Why didn’t you obtain recipes?” Cas asks. 

“Well, it wasn’t as easy when we were kids to just jump on the internet and print out a recipe,” Sam shrugs. “And we never had money for a cookbook. Dean just…had a nose for this sort of thing. Whenever our dad had left us enough to buy actual groceries, he would always have me make a list of meals that I wanted, and then he’d make every single one that he could.”

“Did he ever make anything he wanted?” Cas watches as Sam’s face falls a little. 

“No,” Sam shakes his head a little sadly. “I don’t think that even occurred to him. He used to ask me what I wanted from the store to eat, and I’d ask him what he wanted and he would reply, without fail, ‘I want what you want, Sammy’. When our dad hadn’t given us much money, he’d buy bread, peanut butter, and bananas because I loved peanut butter banana sandwiches. That’s all he would buy. Dean hated peanut butter banana sandwiches, but we didn’t have enough money for more than that.”

“Your brother is a good man,” Cas comments. 

“My brother was taught to care about everyone else before himself,” Sam tells Cas. “He is a good man, but I’d wish he’d value himself more.”

“I agree,” Cas nods. 

“I know,” Sam smiles at Cas. “Which is why I am very supportive of…whatever you and Dean are doing.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Cas offers a small smile and wishes to say more, but is distracted as Dean comes in, caring two plates and two beers. He gives one to Sam. 

“I managed to scrounge up some cheese,” Dean grins and Sam squints at Dean’s burger. 

“There isn’t any on yours,” he comments and Dean shrugs. 

“There wasn’t enough for both,” Dean clarifies. “It’s fine. Eat.”

Sam looks to Cas. “You see what I mean?” Sam rolls his eyes before taking a huge bite of his burger. 

“See what he means?” Dean questions as he takes a seat next to Cas, close enough so their legs bump under the table. 

“We were just talking about what an exemplar human being you are,” Cas explains and Dean rolls his eyes. 

“Can we not?” he scoffs. 

“Dean doesn’t take compliments very well,” Sam laughs. “Watch: Hey, Dean. You’re pretty.”

“Shut up and eat your food, sasquatch,” Dean frowns back at him. 

“Told you,” Sam laughs, taking another huge bite. 

Dean rolls his eyes again, biting into his own burger and notices how Cas stares at it. “You wanna try a bite?” Dean offers and Cas nods, taking the proffered burger and taking a small bite. His grimace is telling. “Molecules?” Dean asks. 

“Molecules,” Cas nods, forcibly swallowing the food. “I’m sure it’s very good, though.”

“It is,” Sam agrees. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Dean replies. “We need to pick up more groceries, though. We’re running pretty low.”

“We can do a supply run tomorrow,” Sam agrees.

Dean nods, looking to his burger for a moment and bumping his knee against Cas’. 

“So,” Sam begins and Dean tenses slightly. “I need a good list of things we’re avoiding talking about.”

“If you have to ask the question, just assume it’s off limits,” Dean replies immediately.

“You sound like dad,” Sam tells him and Dean stops mid-bite, looking like he was slapped. “Sorry,” Sam immediately corrects and Dean shakes his head, continuing to eat in silence. Sam sighs, turning to Cas. “Alright, so Cas. You were mind buddies with Lucifer. Did you overhear any of his plans or anything?”

Cas frowns deeply, trying to concentrate on what he remembered. “I was…out of focus. He was…suppressing me to some extent, I think, so I wouldn’t eject him once I realized that he couldn’t stop Amara. But I remember Heaven, briefly. I think he convinced what’s left of the angels to follow him. He also has all the demons at his beck and call.”

Dean groans. “Great,” he sighs. “So he literally has all the cards, and we have nothing.”

“That’s not true,” Cas shakes his head. “We have Crowley on our side. And, I’m assuming, Rowena, to a certain extent.”

“And the three of us,” Sam adds. “We’ve done more with less.”

Dean doesn’t say anything, just cards a hand through his hair. 

“What’s our plan of action?” Sam asks, looking to Dean. 

“I don’t know,” Dean sighs. “We could go after Amara again. I don’t know what we would do when we found her, though. We could torture me.”

“What? No, we’re not going to torture you,” Sam rejects the idea immediately. 

“Well, she feels pain when I feel pain,” Dean shrugs. 

“I don’t think it is physical pain that hurts her,” Cas interjects. “I believe it is emotional pain, pain that affects your soul. If we wanted to torture you emotionally, we’d have to target Sam or me.”

“No,” Dean immediately replies. “Never mind, that’s a stupid idea.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “You hypocrite.”

“Are you _trying_ to pick a fight?” Dean asks him, bristling a little. 

“No, but you were all gung ho when you were the one to be tortured,” Sam points out. 

“I wasn’t gung ho,” Dean replies. “Look, no one is getting tortured, alright?”

“Good,” Sam replies. 

“So, we go after Lucifer?” Dean redirects. “I’m assuming he’s searching for a vessel. Or he returned to Heaven, where none of us can go.”

“He’d probably find a vessel instead of going straight to Heaven,” Sam says. “He’d have to communicate with the demons, too, after all.” 

“What about his old vessel?” Dean asks. “The poor meat suit he rode around in before you.”

Sam shrugs. “It was his outward image in the Cage,” Sam replies. “I don’t know what happened to the physical body, though. Maybe he had it preserved, or maybe it’s rotting somewhere and he has to find a new one.”

“Lucifer is sentimental,” Cas says. “I wouldn’t put it past him to preserve his first vessel. However, that vessel isn’t strong enough to hold him forever, only Sam is. I don’t know how he expects to amend that, as the bloodline ends with the two of you.”

“You weren’t strong enough to hold him?” Sam inquires. 

“Well, I was stronger than his human vessel,” Cas states. “But I wouldn’t have been able to hold him indefinitely, no.”

“So maybe he’ll attempt to cohabitate with another angel,” Dean suggests. 

“Doubtful,” Cas shakes his head. “My vessel has only me inside, since Jimmy Novak died longed ago. Most other angel vessels will not only have an angel inside, but a human soul as well. Adding Lucifer to that mix would make the vessel even more unstable than his old one.”

“So Lucifer, overall, is screwed in the long run,” Dean says. 

“His vessel is, yes,” Cas nods. “But his grace is alive and well. He will be able to find new vessels every time his dies. We need to either kill him, or trap him in the Cage once again.”

“That’s easier said than done,” Sam frowns. 

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “Last time we trapped Lucifer, he ended up taking Sammy with him, which won’t happen again.”

“Yeah,” Sam nods. “I’d prefer not repeat that whole extravaganza.”

“So, we’re back at square one,” Dean sighs, rubbing his forehead. “Great.”

“I say we focus on Amara,” Sam suggests. “Even just finding her will be a step in the right direction.” 

“Yeah, but how?” Dean retorts. “How do we find her? The last time, she found us.”

“How did you find her in the warehouse?” Cas asks. 

“Rowena figured she’d go back,” Sam shrugs. “It was heavily warded, and Amara probably thought that Rowena was smart enough not to follow her.”

“I think she figured we were all smart enough not to follow her,” Dean adds. “And even if we did follow her, we’re hardly threats.”

“Well, I may not be,” Sam replies. “But now we know that she certainly views Cas as a threat, and your very presence now causes her actual pain, even if she still wants you.”

“She can’t hurt either of you,” Dean shakes his head. “If she hurt either of you, she’d only be hurting herself.”

“Dean has a point,” Cas nods. “I think she’ll try to steer clear of us until she figures out an alternative way to force Dean into choosing her.”

“I don’t think there is an alternative way,” Sam shakes his head.

“There isn’t. I’m not choosing her,” Dean agrees and Cas tries to fight his smile. “Sammy, I told you I didn’t think I’d be able to resist, when push came to shove. But back there…push definitely came to shove…and it was difficult as hell, but she was resisting too. She doesn’t want my soul as it is now, damaged.”

“Your soul is not damaged,” Cas snaps. 

Dean rolls his eyes. “It is to her. She wants it all to herself. And she can’t.”

“So how is she going to mend that?” Sam asks. 

“I don’t know,” Dean shrugs. “Maybe she’ll go on with her doomsday plan without me. Am I really so important to her? I doubt it. She’s God’s sister. I doubt she’d stop her tirade just because one measly human soul wasn’t what is was supposed to be.”

“Wasn’t what she wanted it to be,” Cas corrects. “It’s exactly what it’s supposed to be.”

“Oh my God, would you stop it?” Dean groans, but Sam grins at both of them. 

“This is adorable,” Sam laughs. 

“You shut your goddamn pie hole,” Dean snaps. “Anyway…she’s still looking for God, I assume. We all know how long that may take. She’ll probably stop looking, go on with her plan either way, but her search will definitely buy us some time.”

“Time to do what?” Sam asks. 

“I don’t know,” Dean sighs. He starts to continue, but stops when a knock on the front door of the Bunker echoes out. Dean’s eyes flash to Sam. “Are we…expecting anybody?”


	3. Chapter 3

The knocks reverberate around the Bunker for a few long moments as Dean glances between Cas and Sam. 

“Dean, are we ever expecting anybody?” Sam retorts. 

“Holy water and silver, go,” Dean commands, standing and reaching behind him into the waistband of his jeans to retrieve his gun. Sam disappears briefly and reappears with a flask of holy water, a silver knife, and an angel blade that he tosses to Cas. Dean leads the way up the stairs. He stops Sam and Cas on the stairs and walks to the door. 

“Who is it?” he yells roughly. 

“Joshua,” comes a faint reply and Dean scowls. 

“Joshua who? We don’t know any Joshua’s,” Dean replies. 

“Joshua the angel,” comes the reply and Dean’s eyebrows shoot up. 

“Like…Joshua from the garden?” Dean inquires further. 

“Yes,” Joshua confirms. 

“You alone, Joshua?” 

“Yes,” comes the soft reply.

“If it’s not Joshua, will you be able to tell?” Dean asks Cas softly. 

“Yes,” Cas confirms. “I’ve only met him once, but his grace is particularly memorable.”

“Okay, Joshua, we’re opening the door,” Dean tells the angel. “We’re armed and dangerous, you better not be lying.”

Dean swings the door open, and sees the elderly angel as he remembered from his single time meeting him in Heaven many years before. 

“Dean,” Joshua smiles. “It’s good to see you. May I come in?”

Dean hesitates, looks to Cas who steps forward and examines Joshua for a moment before nodding. “It’s him,” Cas confirms and Dean reluctantly let’s Joshua into the Bunker.

“Castiel,” Joshua greets with an equal amount of calm kindness. “It’s been many millennia since we’ve met. I’ve heard many things about you upstairs, but I know the rumors to be lies.”

“How?” Cas asks. 

“Because I know what to expect of one of God’s favorites,” Joshua tells him. 

“God’s favorites?” Dean raises his eyebrows. 

“Of course,” Joshua replies. “He’s intervened more since He left with Castiel here than any other angel in existence, and that includes the archangels. He’s sure taken a liking to you two Winchesters as well.”

“That’s great, Daddy’s proud,” Dean laughs bitterly. “Let’s sit down and you can tell us why you’re really here, since I know for damn sure it’s not just to tell us all about Papa Bear.”

Joshua laughs and follows Dean down the stairs, back towards the library. “You know, Dean Winchester, I believe my angel brethren really miss out on your wit. They call you thick, but it’s not true. You’re sharp as a tack, aren’t you?”

“Can you stop complimenting me?” Dean snaps. “Angels taking a liking to me makes me very uncomfortable.”

“Castiel likes you,” Joshua points out. 

“Cas is different,” Dean replies without thought. 

“Yes, that is true,” Joshua agrees. “Samuel, how are you? You’re particularly quiet.”

“I’m just trying to figure out what warrants a visit from God’s confidant,” Sam replies. 

“Did I interrupt your dinner?” Joshua replies instead, seeing the half-eaten burgers. “I’m sorry.”

“Brother,” Cas speaks up resolutely, command in his voice. “Tell us why you are here.”

“Aw, that’s the Heaven’s warrior in you,” Joshua smiles at Cas. “All business, no polite conversation. Well, if we’re going to skip the pleasantries, I might as well tell you. You boys started something big. I think He is often surprised by the mischief you kids get yourself into.”

“Joshua, so help me, God,” Dean grumbles. 

“I think you need to think of new phrases, son,” Joshua chuckles quietly. “Most your run-of-the-mill ‘God’ phrases will prove rather ironic in this conversation.”

“Brother,” Cas sighs. “To the point.”

“Bossy, bossy,” Joshua laughs again. “I’m sorry. I’m very old, and I don’t get out of the garden very much. I didn’t even get the luxury of being expelled from Heaven when Metatron did that nasty spell. God wants me to stay put, so this is a special occasion. I enjoy a little interaction with something other than divine plants. 

“Anyway, I must admit to you that my correspondence with God has been spotty since you two stopped the fight between Michael and Lucifer. He thought your initiative admirable, but it also caused Him to reevaluate things a bit. His divine prophesy was thwarted by two stubbornly protective brothers, a rogue angel, and a surrogate father. I think it made Him think about His true effect on the world. However, right now, He wants to speak with Dean.”

Joshua, Sam, and Cas all stare at Dean, Sam and Cas with astonished looks. Dean opens his mouth and can’t find words for a moment. Finally, he manages, “…What?”

“God wants to speak to you, Dean,” Joshua repeats.

“That makes me really uncomfortable,” Dean shakes his head. 

“Nonetheless, son,” Joshua tells him. “You’re the one who bore the Mark, and is therefore bonded to His sister.”

“I don’t want to,” Dean shakes his head again. 

“Dean,” Sam says. “It’s God. I don’t think you have a choice.”

“Why doesn’t he want to talk to either of these two?” Dean asks. “Why is he singling me out?”

“I thought I just explained that,” Joshua looks to Sam and Cas for confirmation. 

“I want Sam and Cas to come,” Dean tells Joshua. 

“Why?” Joshua inquires. 

“Well, primarily because I don’t see why I should go alone. I don’t know God from Adam,” Dean replies, then falters at the odd phrasing, plowing on after a moment nonetheless. “And also because it’s Cas’ father, who he searched for. I think all of us have a few choice words for the guy.”

“Dean, this is not about bitterness regarding God’s absence,” Joshua shakes his head. “This is about the current predicament that you started.”

“Those are my terms,” Dean shrugs. “Take ‘em or leave ‘em.”

“I could just take you without your permission,” Joshua tells Dean, and before Dean can reply, Cas steps forward protectively. 

“Try,” Cas challenges and Joshua stares at Cas for a moment before offering the three of the them a small smile. 

“Fine,” he relented. “But if he gets angry about the extra visitors, I will tell him whose idea it was.”

Dean laughs. “That’s fine by me.”

“Dean…” Sam warns, but Dean shakes his head. 

“It’ll be fine, Sammy,” he promises. “We’re going to meet God.”

Joshua puts his hands on Dean and Sam’s shoulder, and Cas does the same to the other side. In a blink of an eye, the four of them stand on a beach, the sun sinking towards the water. 

“Where are we?” Dean asks. 

“California,” a voice behind them answers and the four of them turn. Cas, Sam, and Dean are unexpectedly surprised to recognize the face: Chuck. Chuck Shirley. 

“Son of a bitch,” Dean murmurs. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Hello, Dean,” Chuck nods. “I know this may come as a surprise.”

“Chuck is God,” Sam nearly laughs. “Wow.”

“Well, kind of,” Chuck tells them. “I jump around from vessel to vessel. I can’t stay in one vessel for too long, or else…well, they implode. It’s not pretty.”

“Oh my God,” Dean mutters. 

“Yes,” Chuck nods, and Dean glances at Joshua. 

“You’re right, that’s going to get old,” Dean says and Joshua nods with a smile. 

“Castiel,” Chuck finally nods at his son and Cas doesn’t say anything. “I see you’re a little peeved.”

“Peeved?” Dean laughs. “He searched for you.”

“I looked everywhere,” Cas confirms. 

“I didn’t want to be found,” Chuck tells them. “I didn’t want to have to face my wonderful creations who I thought were surely doomed. I had holy prophesies about you that stated your demise. How do you think it would feel for a father to have to look his children in the eyes and tell them that they were going to die?”

“But we didn’t die,” Dean points out. 

“How was I supposed to know that? I mean, I’m the creator of the universe,” Chuck points out. “Evidence was on my side.”

“That’s a coward’s answer,” Dean tells God. 

“Dean,” Sam warns, but that’s never stopped Dean before. 

“It’s alright, Sam,” Chuck shrugs. “I have great respect for Dean. He was the one who proved me wrong, who loved his brother so much he went against the word of God.”

“I didn’t do it alone,” Dean tells Chuck and Chuck laughs. 

“No, you didn’t,” Chuck agrees. “But that doesn’t negate the initiative.”

“Speaking of initiative,” Dean redirects. “You’ve finally come out of hiding. Does that mean you’re going to help? With the Darkness, with Amara?”

“Amara?” Chuck laughs bitterly. “Interesting choice of a new name. I locked my sister away because she sought to destroy my plan for creation. She thought creating things with free will would end in both of our demise. When I made it clear that I would choose my plan over her, the war between the two of us began. I created angels to be my warriors, my followers. They are sheep who wish to be led—however, even among the angels, there are some who developed their own independence, like Castiel here. My archangels each had their own sense of independence as well; theirs developed from knowledge of their own greater power. I won the battle against my sister and I locked her away, trusting the lock to Lucifer. I believe Death and Cain filled you in on the rest of the story, correct?” 

“The Mark corrupted Lucifer, Lucifer gave it to Cain,” Dean nods. “Yeah. Did that wonderfully articulate back story have a purpose?”

Chuck looks affronted only for a moment before he smiles slightly. “You know, Dean, I haven’t heard this much backtalk since Gabriel.”

“What can I say? It comes naturally,” Dean offers a quick smile. 

“I’m providing this back story for emphasis, Dean,” Chuck clarifies. “I need you to understand that, in order to beat my sister the last time, I had to _create_ hugely powerful beings to help me. And yet, this time she cringes when you’re in pain. This time we have an advantage.”

“How do you propose we use it?” Dean inquires. Cas notices that his gaze is unwavering, and this worries him. 

“How willing are you to see this to the end?” is Chuck’s next question, and Cas bristles. 

“We’re not using him as bait,” Cas steps forward. 

“Cas,” Dean says. “We need to see this through. We need to make whatever sacrifices beating the Darkness require.”

“So, what? That means your life?” Sam asks him. 

“We’re not sacrificing you, Dean,” Cas tells him adamantly. 

“It’s not sacrifice,” Dean shakes his head. “It’s…winning the war.”

“Damnit, Dean,” Sam shakes his head. “You know what Lucifer told me, when I was with him in the Cage? He told me that I was weak for choosing you over the world, that we were both weak for choosing each other. But I can’t do this without you.”

“Sammy,” Dean shakes his head. “You’ll have to. We both know I’ll probably end bloody. But you don’t have to. I never wanted you to.”

“Boys, this is touching,” Chuck cuts in. “But I’m not talking about sacrificing Dean. I’m talking about…using him to weaken my sister enough to the point where she can be contained, be put back in her prison, and the lock restored.”

“How are we going to do that?” Dean asks. 

“It seems she’s bound to your soul,” Chuck begins. “If your soul is damaged, then so is she.”

“So, we damage my soul, bang bam boom, we lock some cuffs on the bitch and throw her back where she came from,” Dean shrugs. “Sounds easy, let’s do it.”

“It won’t be easy,” Chuck shakes his head. “We’ll need Lucifer for this, both for his power, and as a vessel for the lock. We’ll need to rebrand him with the Mark of Cain, inaptly named. And as for damaging your soul, it will be incredibly painful. Of course I will restore it to the exact shape it’s in now, but you will be aware for the entire time. The soul exists in a place beyond time, yet interacts with the mind, melding with it. It is what makes you, my perfect creations, so amazingly imperfect. You’ll experience pains that you’ll never forget, mostly likely see things you’ll never be able to unsee. It will be a great burden, Dean Winchester. But a burden that I think it is necessary to bear.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Dean shrugs. “I was in Hell for forty years. I don’t see how it could really top that.”

“Easily,” Chuck replies immediately. “The human mind is a wonderful but horrendous thing. This will be worse than Hell. In Hell, your soul was tortured in a way that you could imagine, your idea of physical embodiment behind ‘put on the slab’, as they say. This will be much different. This will be your soul being broken, Dean. Broken and torn and ripped apart, and it will all be reflected in your mind. In Hell, your soul is worn down over millennia. It takes hundreds and hundreds of years for the human soul to truly degenerate into what becomes demonic because, even if horribly painful, the torture is limited. This will be pushing you past that point in minutes. The mental strain will be astronomical. It will make Sam’s time in the Cage look like a walk in the park. I will help as much as I can, but a lot of the weight will be on you alone.”

This gives Dean pause, but both Cas and Sam are immediate in their responses: “No,” they tell Chuck in tandem.

“I’m sorry,” Cas shakes his head. “It is Dean’s choice, and Dean’s alone.”

“Dean, you can’t do this,” Cas tells Dean and Dean doesn’t agree nor argue. 

“You can’t seriously be considering this,” Sam shakes his head. “Dean, you can’t.”

“Sammy…” Dean shakes his head, and Sam knows he’s fighting a losing battle against his brother who is worth the world, but thinks he’s worth absolutely nothing. Sam turns angrily to Chuck. “How can you ask him to do this? How can you ask him to risk his life for a world that isn’t worth saving?”

“If the world isn’t worth saving, at the very least, Sam is,” Chuck tells Dean and Sam freezes, can see the click from hesitation to resolution in Dean’s eyes, and can feel the anger welling inside himself as he stares at the God who will torture his brother, and use him as a reason to do so. 

“You son of a bitch,” Sam growls and launches himself at Chuck, fists flying. He doesn’t make it a foot before his entire body is paralyzed, and he’s frozen standing still next to Dean, mouth trying to work but unable. 

“Sam, I am sorry,” Chuck shakes his head. “But this is bigger than the Winchester’s undying love for one another.”

“Let him go,” Dean demands. 

“He’s being rash,” Chuck tells Dean. “I’m an ultimately powerful being, and he just tried to sucker punch me.”

“Can you blame him?” Dean rolls his eyes. “Sam, try not to sucker punch God. There, are you happy? Let him go.”

Chuck sighs but releases his holds on Sam, who immediately lunges again. This time, however, Dean catches him and shoves him back. “Sam!” he grunts, shoving him back again as Sam tries once more. “Sam, enough! Take a walk. Now!”

Sam glares at Dean, glares at Chuck, glares at Cas, and spins on his heel, stomping off farther down the beach. 

“Castiel, I can feel your rage,” Chuck sighs again, turning to his angel son next. “Do you want to attack me too?”

“Yes,” Cas nods. “But I want to punch Dean as much as you.”

“We’re respecting each other’s stupid decisions,” Dean informs Cas. 

“That’s a rule that we all know is endlessly counterproductive, that will last exactly as long as it takes for Sam to get himself in over his head,” Cas yells at Dean, surprising everyone with his anger. Sam looks over from his angry stance yards down the beach. Cas checks his volume and continues. “I cannot believe you’re thinking about doing this.”

“I’m not thinking about it, Cas,” Dean tells him. “I’m doing it.”

“Why?” Cas’s voice drops to a murmur and Dean has to take a step closer to fully hear him. “Why? We can find another way.”

“Why not?” Dean suggests. “This is an answer. An immediate answer. We can end it all. We can win. All it’s going to take is one man’s suffering. I think that’s a good trade.” 

“Why does it have to be your suffering?” Cas asks. 

“Would you rather it be someone else’s? I’m no more important than anyone else, Cas,” Dean shakes his head. “This is an easy choice. If you were unbiased, you would agree. Old Cas would agree with this decision in a heartbeat.”

“Old Cas was callous and cold,” Cas tells Dean. “And then I rebelled. All for you.”

“And I’m preserving what you rebelled for,” Dean tells him, putting a hand briefly on Cas’ cheek intimately before dropping his hand and turning to Chuck. “When are we doing this?”

“I must make arrangements,” Chuck admitted. “But I will retrieve you when all is ready.”

Without a syllable more, Chuck vanishes.

“I will take you home now,” Joshua tells them, putting hands on their shoulders. 

“Sam!” Dean yells and Sam trudges back over. The moment he’s close enough to touch, Cas grabs his arm and they appear in the Bunker. When Dean looks at Joshua, he finds empty air. 

“Well, that was an interesting chat,” Dean says and Sam’s voicing his anger even before Dean’s finished. 

“Why do you do this?”

“Why can’t you see that this is the easy choice?” Dean retorts. “Sammy, c’mon! I started this, and I need to finish it.”

“You didn’t start anything! Cas and I are the ones who removed the Mark,” Sam yells. 

“I accepted it in the first place,” Dean shakes his head. 

“You’re always the one that says saving every life matters,” Sam tells Dean. “Every life, Dean. Even yours.”

“I’m not giving my life,” Dean cries, throwing up his hands. “I’m just…being tortured a little.”

“Many would argue that being tortured is worse than dying,” Sam argues, and Dean shakes his head. Sam continues, “It’ll be Hell, Dean. Hell but worse. You remember Hell, you remember what it was like, what it did to you. Why would you do this to yourself again?”

“You’re punishing yourself,” Cas interjects, so softly that Sam almost doesn’t hear it, but he notices the way Dean’s head snaps up, his eyes widen. “That’s it, isn’t it? Like what I was doing in Purgatory.”

Dean doesn’t say anything, and Sam stares at him. “You’re…punishing yourself? Dean…even you can’t believe that you disserve this.”

Dean is silent for a long moment before his head drops a little and he rubs a palm across his face. “I’ve done bad things, Sam. This is a way to make it right.”

“Dean,” Sam groans. “You’re a good person. You save lives.”

“Why do we always excuse the bad I’ve done?” Dean suddenly yells, head snapping up and rage in his eyes. “Why is it that we ignore the horrible things that I’ve done? I dragged you back into the hunting life, I broke the first seal, I sold my soul, I tortured other souls in Hell, I killed off an entire family including an innocent boy, I was a Knight of Hell. Speaking of, don’t even get me started on all the shit I could tell you about when I was a demon with Crowley. King of Hell ain’t exactly a good influence. And sure, I save people, but I’ve also just started _another_ apocalypse. This…this is setting things right, Sammy.”

All is silent as Dean’s voice dies down, let’s the words settle around the three of them. 

“You’re an idiot,” Cas finally tells Dean, “if you think that you are bad. We’ve all done bad, Dean. You’re not alone in this.”

“And if you were offered a way to make it right, you’re telling me you wouldn’t jump on it? Oh, wait. You have! Sam, you chose a demon over me and let Lucifer out, but you sacrificed yourself, took on Lucifer and won. Spent a hell of a long time in the Cage. You didn’t deserve that, but it was your choice. Cas, you became the new God and broke my baby brother’s wall, and you purposefully stayed in Purgatory. You’ve both done exactly what I’m doing now. The difference is, I’m giving you a heads up about my intentions.”

They both stare at Dean for a long moment but neither can argue. 

“Look, I’m making the right choice,” Dean tells them. 

“And when you come out of this broken beyond recognition,” Cas tells him eventually. “We’ll be here to put you back together.”

“I’m counting on that,” Dean nods. “If I didn’t count on that, I wouldn’t be able to do this. We’re in this together, right?”

Cas and Sam exchange a look filled with pain and acceptance. “Right,” they say in tandem. 

Sam nods. “We’re in this together.”

Cas agrees, “Together.”


	4. Chapter 4

Sam excuses himself to go to sleep, and Dean takes the half-eaten burgers into the kitchen where he puts each separate burger into a separate plastic bag. Cas follows him, silent and watching. Dean doesn’t hear Cas follow him, and after throwing the burgers into the fridge, Dean closes the door and leans into his hands, resting his forehead against the door. He lets out a long, almost shuddering breathe. Cas approaches silently again and wraps his arms around Dean’s waist. Dean tenses for a moment but then relaxes into the embrace, turning in Cas’ arms to return the hug by wrapping his own arms around Cas’ neck. They stay like that for an immeasurable amount of time, and when they both pull apart slightly, their lips find each other’s flawlessly. The kiss is gentle to begin with, conveying their apologies to one another in equal measure. The switch from gentle to hungry is a subtle one but before Dean knows it, Cas pushes against Dean drawing him closer and closer and they’re both yearning for more. 

“Come on,” Dean murmurs into Cas’ mouth and Cas moans softly as Dean disengages them, taking only Cas’ hand and pulling him into the hallway and to Dean’s bedroom. When Dean closes the door securely behind him and turns, Cas is immediate in pulling them together again, pushing Dean onto his bed. Cas falls atop Dean and grinds against Dean surprisingly well. 

“Can angels…?” Dean’s questions is murmured in between delightfully rough kisses and the end hangs openly in the air. Cas chuckles gently against Dean’s mouth, pulling back and kissing Dean’s forehead. 

“Yes,” Cas assures and Dean’s grin is wide enough to make Cas realign their mouths and deepen their kisses. Cas kisses along Dean’s delicious jaw line, down his neck, and lightly bites Dean’s collarbone. Cas finds it amazingly intense when this nibble makes Dean moan and writhe beneath him. Cas bites down a little harder, and Dean’s moan forms into a nearly inaudible, “Yes…”

Cas loves the feel of Dean, every aspect of his person, inside and out. He doesn’t know how to tell Dean, so instead he pulls away from Dean’s collarbone and whispers in his ear, “You told me you would teach me things. Teach me this.”

Dean nods and the two of them strip naked unceremoniously and as quickly as they can. Once nude, Dean straddles Cas and pulls Cas’ face to his own, kissing him deeply, generously, kindly. Dean pulls lube from his bedside table and rubs Cas’ cock expertly. As he slowly guides himself onto it, Cas lets out a long groan. Dean rides Cas slowly, leaning forward to caress him with soft compliments. “You’re beautiful,” Dean murmurs against Cas’ forehead. “You’re perfect.”

Cas commands Dean with soft instructions, “Harder…faster…” and Dean is impressed with how dominant Cas is, how willing he is to follow Cas’ every command. Cas’ hands roam Dean’s body with caressing curiosity as Dean grinds to Cas’ demands. Their moans are hushed but weighty, and Cas loves Dean to his very core with everything he has, Dean loves Cas deeper still than even that. When Cas rests his hand on the mark that beautifully scars Dean’s shoulder, a shock goes through them both and brings them to climax simultaneously and forcefully. Dean sees stars and Cas slumps against him, moaning low and rough, “ _Dean_.”

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean manages after a long moment. “You’re fucking perfect.”

“I love you,” Cas tells Dean as Dean rolls off, stretching off the bed to retrieve a t-shirt or a pair of boxers to clean his cum off Cas’ stomach. He ends up only being able to reach Cas’ white boxers and proceeds to wipe Cas clean while Cas smiles at him adoringly. Once that is finished, he plops down next to Cas and throws an arm across his waist while kissing his shoulder. Cas flips on his side so that his face is only inches from Dean’s. 

“That was a nice distraction,” Cas tells Dean and Dean raises his eyebrows. Cas frowns. “Perhaps distraction is the wrong word.”

“That was pleasantly overdue,” Dean tells him, kissing his nose.

“You’re surprisingly cuddly,” Cas tells Dean and Dean cocks an eyebrow again as Cas continues, “Whenever I imagined this, you weren’t as cuddly.”

“I don’t have to be,” Dean offers.

“No, I like it,” Cas replies immediately, wiggling closer. 

“You imagined this before?” Dean asks with a chuckle. 

“Yes,” Cas admits with a slight blush that Dean thinks is perfect, just like the rest of his angel. “Haven’t you?”

“Of course I have,” Dean replies. “But for an angel, you have quite impure thoughts.”

“I wouldn’t call them impure,” Cas argues. “Perhaps, different from the rest of my brethren. But not impure.”

“Alright,” Dean allows. 

“Except Gabriel,” Cas corrects. “There’s not a doubt in my mind that his thoughts can be categorized as impure.”

Dean laughs. “Agreed.” After a moment, he stares at Cas’s face and asks, “Do you miss him? Gabriel, I mean.”

Cas sighs. “Gabriel and I were in different generations, and I sadly did not know him before he disappeared and claimed the title Loki, the Trickster. But I was very close to Balthazar, and in turn, Balthazar was very close with Gabriel.”

“What’s the family dynamic like, among you guys?” Dean furthers. 

“There are so many angels—there were, at least,” Cas tells Dean. “Our numbers have greatly decreased, and I’m certainly not exempt from blame on that matter.”

“Cas…” Dean shakes his head, placing a hand on Cas’s cheek. 

“I know that you think I’m not to blame, that it was the power of the souls,” Cas nods. “But…it was me, nevertheless. And though I was not close to them all of them, I know my actions were wrong.”

“Let’s not think about it,” Dean tells him, kissing his forehead. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Cas sighs. “I enjoy talking about my family, but with it comes pain. I expect you can relate to that.”

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “I can.”

“If I tell you about my family, will you tell me about yours?” Cas asks. 

“You know my family, Cas,” Dean tells him. 

“I don’t always know how you view them,” Cas tells him. “I know you love Sam, that you raised Sam. I know your relationship with your father was complicated. But I don’t know much about your mother.”

“Alright,” Dean agrees. “I’ll tell you about my mom if you tell me about your family.”

“Okay,” Cas nods. “When I was young, eons ago, I remember looking up to Michael. This was after he cast Lucifer out, after Gabriel left. I never met Michael in person, but he was so bright. It’s different in Heaven, how human souls perceive it and how it really is: energy and different realities, different planes of existence. It’s…beautiful. Michael was brighter than the rest, brighter than so many. Many of my older brethren, including Balthazar, told me that even brighter than Michael was Lucifer.”

“I know that you and Balthazar were close,” Dean says carefully. “I don’t think I’ve ever said sorry…about what happened to him.”

“Another in a long list of lost lives thanks to me,” Cas shakes his head, looking down and then returning his eyes to Dean’s. “Your mother?”

“She was so…kind,” Dean answers. “I was only four when…I mean, I don’t remember much of her, but I do remember her smile, and how much she loved me and Sam. But other than that…everything’s faint. She would sing to me, every night, the Beatles. She made great soup. I don’t know, man.”

“It’s okay, Dean,” Cas tells him. “I was lucky enough to spend a millennia with my brothers. You only got four years.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think I would want a millennia either,” Dean chuckles a little and Cas gives a small smile. 

“Yeah, it was trying,” Cas agrees. “But at the same time, my family was just as much peers as family. I had a working relationship with the majority of them, primarily without any familial attachment. There were only a few that I felt truly were like my family. Hester. Inias. Balthazar. Anna. Uriel. Ezkiel. All dead.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean murmurs, kissing Cas in between reiterations of “I’m so sorry”. Finally, they break apart and Cas smiles at Dean. 

“Thank you,” Cas murmurs. “You and Sam…I’ve messed up with you two more than I have with any of my family, and yet you’re still here. Thank you.”

“We’ve all messed up,” Dean shrugs. “It’s time we either stop messing up—which is unlikely—or stop hating each other for it.”

Cas smiles at Dean, but they both startle when there’s a knock on the bedroom door. 

“Dean!” Sam calls. “Make yourself decent, I’m coming in.”

“Sam, don’t!” Dean replies frantically, pulling up the blankets just in time to cover himself and Cas before Sam disregards the warning. He comes in, staring at a book in his hands, but freezes when he glances up to see Dean and Cas. 

“Ah!” he cries out, covering his eyes. “Oh my God, it’s like walking in on my parents!”

“Sam, get out!” Dean yells and Sam begins to back out then uncovers his eyes with a peculiar look. “Sam!” Dean protests. 

“I thought you were alone,” Sam tells them. 

“Clearly I’m not!” Dean throws up his arms. 

“No, I thought you were alone because I heard noise from Cas’s bedroom…” Sam continues and they all stare at each other before they all erupt into motion. Sam wheels around and races down the hallway while Cas and Dean jump out of bed. Dean throws a pair of pajama pants at Cas while he throws on boxers and a t-shirt before running after Sam. They come to a halt where Sam is poised outside Cas’s bedroom door, an angel blade in one hand and the demon knife in the other. He tosses the knife to Dean and Dean nods at Sam to proceed. Sam throws open the door and jumps into the room ready to pounce. Dean follows with Cas close behind him, but they all stop the moment they enter the room. 

Sitting in the desk chair facing the door with headphones on and a lopsided grin sits Gabriel. 

“Speak of the devil,” Dean mutters and Gabriel shoves the ear phones down around his neck. 

“Not quite the devil,” Gabriel winks. “Just his favorite brother.” Gabriel looks at the state of Cas and Dean and whistles, winking again. “Wow, Cassie. I know you were pining over one of the Winchester boys, but I didn’t think you’d actually be able to bag one. I’m impressed. I’m glad you chose good ‘ol Dean-o, here. That means this tall drink of water is still available, am I right, Sammy?”

“I’m flattered,” Sam retorts. “But aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

“Oh, sweetheart, we’re going to have to work on your pillow talk,” Gabriel winks again. “Maybe I’m supposed to be, but I’m not. When I saw Lucifer many moons ago, I wanted to help you idiots—really, I did. But you know what? As it turns out, I actually didn’t want to kill my brother. You know what I mean, don’t you Dean?”

Dean certainly does, but doesn’t want to admit it. “So you’re back now? What, to help out again? Or just sit from the sidelines?”

“I’ve been sitting on the sidelines since that night the gods met,” Gabriel tells Dean. “If I wanted to sit on the sidelines, I could do so comfortably without having to show myself. But word on the street is…Daddy’s back.”

“You want to see our father,” Cas surmises and Gabriel nods. 

“Bingo,” Gabriel nods. “Gold star for little baby Cassie.”

“I don’t know, Gabe,” Dean says. “I was slightly underwhelmed. It may not even be worth the trouble of coming out of hiding.”

“Watch your mouth, Winchester,” Gabriel stands, eyes suddenly fierce. 

“Oh, sorry, sore subject,” Dean laughs and Gabriel narrows his eyes at Dean before holding up his hands. 

“I forgot what a dick you are, Winchester,” Gabriel comments. 

“Let me ask this, Gabriel,” Sam interjects. “Why come to us? Why not go directly to him?”

“Because I still don’t know where the hell he is,” Gabriel tells him. 

“Well, maybe he doesn’t want to see you,” Dean points out. 

“Do you have a bone to pick with me, Dean?” Gabriel turns on him. “Because, last I checked, you started the end of the world…again. And since I plan on helping you asshats, I’ve had just about enough of your snide comments.”

“You’re a little bit touchy, Gabe,” Dean scowls. “My mistake, I really shouldn’t provoke someone with such obvious daddy issues.”

Gabriel took a threatening step closer as Cas chastises, “Dean.”

“Sorry, alright,” Dean sighs. “I’m done. I’m sure…I mean, I guess God will be glad to have your help. Assuming that meeting with him means you will offer your help.”

“Yeah…I might,” Gabriel shrugs noncommittally. 

“Promising,” Sam rolls his eyes. 

“So, you’ve met with Daddio,” Gabriel turns to the younger Winchester. “Does that mean that you kids came up with a plan? To stop that bitch sister of his?”

Sam and Cas immediately frown and Gabriel’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh,” Gabriel nods. “Huh. You two are frowning like someone spit in the kool-aid, which means…Dean-o’s head’s on the chopping block again, right?”

Dean sighs. “My head is not on the chopping block.”

Both Cas and Sam snort a little and Dean flashes them twin glares. “My head is not on the chopping block,” Dean reiterates before returning his gaze to Gabriel. “I’m just…bait.”

“That’s not what this is,” Sam says immediately. 

“These two would not have their panties in this much of a bunch if you were only bait, Deanie Beanie,” Gabriel agrees. Dean scrunches his nose at the nickname. 

“Ew, no to Deanie Beanie,” Dean shakes his head. “Look…can we continue this conversation in the library, or something? It’s weird standing around Cas’ room like this.”

“Oh, see, I just knew this was Cassie’s room!” Gabriel beams. “I could just smell the stick up his ass. Or was it…Dean up his ass?”

Sam snickers slightly and Dean takes a threatening step forward, but Cas catches his shoulder, turning stern eyes on the other angel. “Would you stop goading him, Gabriel?”

“Oh, look at Cas, sticking up for the boyfriend,” Gabriel chuckles. “Sorry, I’ll try to stop the innuendos…but only if they’re not good. If they’re particularly clever, it’d be a shame not to share with the class.”

“I would not call that a shame,” Dean grumbles. “I’d call that a blessing.”

Without another word, Dean stalks out of the room. They all follow him into the hallway and Dean heads to his room first. “I’ll meet you in there in five seconds,” Dean explains. 

The rest of them nod, and head into the library where they take seats at the tables. 

“Well, while Dean’s otherwise occupado,” Gabriel raises his eyebrows. “Whatever Dad suggested for Dean to do…I’m guessing you two aren’t fond.”

“No,” they both reply. 

“Finishing each other’s sentences,” Gabriel smirks. “Are you sure you two are the ones sleeping together?”

Sam snorts and Cas shakes his head. “Though Sam is an attractive man, I’ve always had a much deeper bond with his brother. No offense, Sam.”

Sam laughs. “None taken, Cas. Anyway, it’s a stupid plan and no offense to your guys’ dad or anything, but I kind of want to punch him in the face still.”

“Yeah, well, tough,” Dean replies as he enters the room again, his grey robe tied loosely. He throws a t-shirt at Cas, who takes it without comment and slips it over his head. “Long story or short story, Gabe?”

“Let’s stick to short,” Gabriel suggests. 

“Alright, well, Amara is connected to me because of the Mark of Cain and crap, so she feels when my soul is hurting, or whatever,” Dean begins. “So our plan is to hurt my soul. She’s weakened, Lucifer, God, and now potentially you can shove her back into wherever the hell she came from. Capiche?”

“Hurt your soul?” Gabriel raises his eyebrows. 

“Yeah,” Dean shrugs. “God’s gonna reach in and mangle my soul a little bit to weaken Amara.”

Gabriel stares at Dean for a long moment and Gabriel’s sudden level of seriousness makes Dean supremely nervous. “Would you stop staring at me? God, you’re freaking me out.”

“I just…” Gabriel rubs the back of his neck. “I mean…wow, Dean. I knew you had low self esteem, but I didn’t realize the exact extent of just how seriously worthless you must feel.”

“Oh my God,” Dean groans. “Here we go. This is about how I feel about myself! This is about ending another goddamn apocalypse that you so helpfully pointed out I helped start. Don’t get all psychoanalytical on me, Gabe. I don’t need that shit.”

“Well, I mean,” Gabriel shrugs a little, his face still surprisingly smirk-less. “Let me be the first to say that I would not wish what you will go through on my worst enemy. I wouldn’t wish it on Amara. Hell, I wouldn’t wish it on Donald Trump, and we all know his soul needs to be tortured a bit.”

“Whatever, dude,” Dean rolls his eyes. “That’s pretty much the gist of the plan. God will I guess summon us when he’s ready to get the ball rolling, but I don’t know how long that will take. So what are you going to do?”

“Well, hang around here, obviously,” Gabriel snorts. “I mean, I want to be close by when the Bat Phone rings. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Yes,” all three reply at once and Gabriel just laughs. 

“Tough!” he tells them. “Because it won’t take too long for Dad to come a knockin’, so you won’t actually have to put up with me for long.”

Sam and Cas both look to Dean who eventually rolls his eyes. “Fine!” he grumbles. “Whatever.”

“Great!” Gabriel grins. “I’ll take Cas’ room, because he’s obviously not going to be sleeping in his own bed tonight. Molzoltov, by the way, guys. God, if Balthazar were still alive today, I’d owe him twenty bucks.”

“What?” Cas asks. “Twenty dollars, why?”

“Well, you know,” Gabriel laughs. “Because we kind of saw the whole ‘pull the eldest Winchester from Perdition’ thing going a little left of exact plan. Granted, I didn’t think it would go ‘sleeping with aforementioned saved Winchester’ left, but left nonetheless.”

“What are you talking about?” Cas narrows his eyes. “I got that mission long after you had left. You didn’t know me when you were still in Heaven.”

“Oh, Cassie,” Gabriel sighs. “ _You_ didn’t know _me_ , not the other way around. I knew exactly who you were from the moment you were created. Castiel, angel of Thursday, but destined for much more. Your destiny was among the highest prophesies. Michael and I used to look down on you when you were on missions on Earth. Michael was very ‘good warrior, good angel’. You know, teacher’s pet all the way, that Michael. But me and Balth, well, we saw the rebel in you. You were so bad at following orders, even from the start. It wasn’t until you worked under Anna that you started behaving, and that was only because she allowed you independence, right? No, little fledgling Cassie was one of my favorite past times before I got out of Dodge.”

Cas stares at Gabriel for a long moment before finally saying, “You…used to watch me?”

“Well, it sounds creepy when you put it like that,” Gabriel laughs. “Not in a stalker way, in a big brother way. I mean, I knew the writings on the Winchesters, I knew their fates. Or at least, I thought I did. Kind of threw a wrench in those stories, didn’t ya, boys? Anyway, of course I took an interest in the angel that was going to literally siege Hell for one of them.”

“Are you saying while…Sam and I worked with Balthazar, he secretly wanted me to get with Cas?” Dean finally cuts in and Gabriel chuckles lowly. 

“Well, at that time, I think he was more worried about Cas being the New God,” Gabriel shrugs. “But sure, on some level, I’m sure he was mentally making you two kiss.”

“Great,” Dean rubs a hand over his face.

“This is a lot to process,” Cas mutters to himself. 

“Yeah, well, I’m beat,” Sam tells them. “I’m heading to bed.” He waves at them all in farewell as he exits the library. 

“Yeah, me too,” Dean agrees after a moment. “I’m going to hit the hay. You…you, uh, coming, Cas?”

Cas smiles at Dean, nods.

“You two are so cute!” Gabriel coos after them. “I’ll go chill in Cas’ room. I hope the walls are thick in this weird little underground fortress! You kids have fun now! Use protection!”

Dean hopes Gabriel can hear his groan from the hallway as he and Cas walk back to Dean’s room. Dean tosses his robe over a chair when they enter and falls back into bed. Cas joins him, and Dean wraps his arm around the angel’s waist. 

“So…Gabriel used to watch you,” Dean murmurs into Cas’ messy hair. “Wow, dude. I knew you were a hot shot up there before you…well, you know, gave it up for me. But I didn’t know you were Archangel-stalker worthy.”

“Nor did I,” Cas agrees. “However, my ‘Archangel-stalker’ worthiness, as you put it, was seemingly contingent on how our destinies intertwined, it seems.”

“Yeah,” Dean nods, lost in that. “That’s sort of…actually, I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Cas tells him. “My feelings for you are certainly not Heaven-made. I mean, Naomi made me kill thousands of Dean replicas because all the power of Heaven couldn’t beat my love for you out of me.”

“What?” Dean sits up on his elbow and peers down at Cas. Cas sighs as he explains. “Well, when I was under Naomi’s…mind control, I believe you called it, she had me kill thousands of replicas of you because she thought the biggest obstacle in her control over me was you. Which, admittedly, she was right. It was you who broke me of her control after all, despite her training.”

“Wow,” Dean lays back down beside Cas. “That’s sort of disturbing.”

“Very,” Cas agrees. “Anyway, Dean. You should sleep, you need your rest.”

“Yeah, I’m tired,” Dean agrees with a loud yawn. “What are you going to do while I sleep?”

“Are you still against me watching over you?” Cas smiles. 

“In the metaphorical sense, no,” Dean allows. “But in the physical sense, yeah, it’s a bit weird. Less so, now, I guess. But still.”

“I’ll just lie here, then,” Cas tells him with a smile. “And enjoy your warmth.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” Dean’s voice fades as he drifts off slowly, curling around Cas slightly more. Cas pulls the blanket up around them and before he knows it, Dean is breathing softly and evenly against the nape of Cas’ neck.


	5. Chapter 5

Cas thinks that he can almost sleep if he closes his eyes and focuses on nothing but the even in-out of Dean’s breathe. He’s surprised, too, when hours seem to pass and he doesn’t mind his inactivity at all. Every once in a while, he’ll open his eyes and examine the wrinkles around Dean’s knuckles, or the deep scars that mar much of his hands and arms. He drifts in between focusing and letting his mind wander. After a while, he glances at Dean’s alarm clock and sees that it’s nearly seven in the morning. He’s surprised that so much of the night drifted by without him itching for movement at all. In his own room, when he was human, Cas would sleep. When he got his grace back, he would read or watch the wonderful invention Dean introduced him to called Netflix. He usually liked to keep his mind occupied, but now he found he didn’t mind whatsoever if he were able to lay next to Dean until the world ended. He frowns slightly as he realizes that if Dean did just sleep here with him until the end of the world, they won’t have to wait long. He scrunches up his nose but his tension eases as the arm Dean flung across Cas’ waist tightens a little and Dean pulls him closer nuzzling slightly into Cas neck. 

“Good morning, Dean,” Cas murmurs. 

“Mmmm,” Dean replies. 

“Eloquent,” Cas remarks and Dean puffs out a laugh against Cas’ skin that makes Cas almost shiver. 

“Shuddup,” Dean grumbles a little. “Wha…time’s it?”

“Just after seven in the morning,” Cas offers. 

Dean groans adorably. “Tha’s too damn early.”

“Go back to sleep, then,” Cas points out and Dean is silent for so long that Cas thinks the other man has taken his advice but finally, Dean snuggles a little closer. 

“Nah,” he eventually replies. “I’m up now. Good morning.”

Cas huffs out a little laugh. “Morning, Dean. How did you sleep?”

“That was…I mean, I slept like a baby,” Dean tells him after a moment’s hesitation. “That was actually probably the best sleep I’ve ever had.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Cas turns in Dean’s arms so they’re face to face. Cas kisses Dean’s nose and Dean scrunches it under his lips. 

“Dude, don’t kiss my nose,” he laughs. “I’m not a toddler.”

“Well, comparatively,” Cas shrugs as best he can when on his side, “to me, you kind of are.”

“Okay,” Dean sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Cas, you can’t say that I’m a toddler. It’s creepy. That's like you robbing a cradle.”

“You’re not in a cradle,” Cas frowns. 

“It’s a figure of speech,” Dean sighs, leaning his forehead against Cas’. “You know what? Never mind. Next subject: how did you…lay?”

“I was very relaxed for the entire night, thank you,” Cas replies. “In fact, what I experienced was very akin to sleep. I feel rested and recharged.”

“Good, that’s good,” Dean nods. “I mean, you had a pretty tiring day yesterday, so I’m glad you’re feeling good.”

“A tiring day?” Cas asks. “Because of the torture or because of the sex?”

Dean laughs loudly at that one. “Because of the torture, Cas.”

“Oh,” Cas nods. “In that case, yes, that was somewhat trying. I was worried for a moment that you were concerned that sex would be too tiring for me.”

“No, I’m not worried about that at all,” Dean replies, leaning forward and kissing Cas slowly before pulling back with a grin. “I know that you can handle me.”

“Easily,” Cas murmurs back and Dean’s grin widens. 

“Careful, Cas,” he chuckles. “You might hurt a guy’s feelings.”

Without allowing Cas a reply, Dean presses closer to him, pulling their mouths together until they’re slotted perfect. Dean leans over Cas a bit, pressing their chests together until they fit just as perfectly as their mouths. Cas reaches up and wraps his arms around Dean’s neck, carding a hand through his hair. Dean tangles his fingers in Cas’ permanently messy black locks. Their kiss deepens until they’re both taking too short of breaths in through their noses and they have to pull away. 

“Cas, you don’t even really have to breathe, do you?” Dean asks and Cas shakes his head. 

“Technically, no,” Cas tells him, shrugging slightly in Dean’s arms. “But at this point, it is primarily habit.”

Dean smiles down at him affectionately and Cas doesn’t quite understand what he said to earn such a look, but finds himself rather grateful nonetheless. Before Cas can comment on his thoughts, Dean’s smile turns into something far more mischievous and he winks.

“I’m going to blow you,” Dean tells Cas matter-of-factly and before Cas can even think of a response, Dean has thrown off the blanket tucked around them and slid down to Cas’ waist. He tugs down the pajama bottoms and throws them on the floor, kisses Cas’ thighs, and grins when he sees the look of surprised awe coloring Cas’ oceanic eyes. Dean grinned up at him before leaning down further and tonguing the head of Cas’ half-hard cock. Though Dean had only had a few male sexual partners before Cas and most had been, like all his other sexual encounters, one night stands, giving blow jobs is something that Dean has always been weirdly good at. He tries not to think much about it, but is happy for his natural ability when a rumble of approval that his tongue elicits comes from deep within Cas’ chest. With that encouragement, Dean begins to work his way down Cas’ shaft slowly, making sure to spend extra time swirling his tongue around as much of Cas’ cock as he can. He feels Cas harden fully beneath his tongue and makes himself stop from grinning around Cas. Instead he pushes further, swallowing him all the way until Cas’ head bumps against the back of Dean’s throat. He reaches up his hand to assist in the amount he couldn’t fit into his mouth, and bobs up and down on Cas’ cock. He glances up and is almost startled into stillness when his eyes meet Cas’ fierce blue. Cas reaches out and runs his hand through Dean’s hair before letting it fall to his side again and moans. Dean’s own erection throbs at the sound of Cas’ deep moan. Dean repositions slightly, never stopping his mouth’s bobbing on Cas’ cock and reaches his free hand down to free his own dick from his tightening underwear and gripping it. He matches the rhythms of both hands and moans slightly against Cas’ erection, which leaks precum into his mouth. He licks it away greedily, swiping his tongue over the slit a few times, making Cas writhe slightly, his moans kept soft. Dean thumbs over his own head and shudders slightly, dropping back down all the way on Cas’ cock and hallowing his cheeks out as much as he can. 

“Dean…” Cas mutters deeply, his voice seemingly rumbling through the bed and straight to Dean’s dick, bringing Dean closer just with the sound. It doesn’t take that much longer of Dean’s expert ministrations to pull Cas over the edge. Cas bursts into his mouth and Dean drinks it down willingly, fondling Cas’ balls to get every last drop. As he does so, he palms himself into oblivion with a choked off moan that is muffled by Cas’ quickly depleting erection. Once he’s swallowed everything down, Dean crawls back up and sprawls across the bed, mostly over Cas’ chest. Cas wraps himself around Dean like an affectionate cat and Dean resists the urge to snort. 

“You…are amazing,” Cas pants slightly. 

“How are you panting?” Dean laughs euphorically. “You don’t even need to breathe.”

“My grace…it seems to have bonded rather closely with my vessel,” Cas provides. “I believe that the…emotional and physical effect of intercourse with you…brings forth far more human reactions than I am used to, thus I fall back into erratic patterns of breathing.”

“So, what you’re really saying is…” Dean grins, “that I’m so good in bed, I make an angel lose his breathe?”

Cas rolls his eyes slightly but eventually nods. “I suppose that’s what I’m saying.”

“I knew it,” Dean smiles hugely, leaning over to kiss Cas for a few long moments before pulling back with a large grin. “Are you ready to start the day?”

“Ready when you are,” Cas agrees. 

“Alright, let’s go make some coffee, or Sammy’ll be grumpy,” Dean kisses Cas once more before stretching languorously and then getting out of bed. Dean throws his robe on and tosses a fresh pair of pajama bottoms to Cas. Cas takes them and pulls them on with a soft smile and they both head into the kitchen. It doesn’t take long for Dean to coax their coffee maker into producing the much needed beverage, and Dean knows that it won’t take long for Sam to smell the coffee and wake up out of whatever undoubtedly mummy-like rest he’d managed to get. Cas takes a seat at the little table and watches Dean as he expertly prepares their coffee, then goes to the fridge to check what he can make for breakfast. 

Cas doesn’t know if it’s entirely appropriate to walk up behind Dean and wrap himself around the younger man just so he can be close, but resists because he thinks that it probably is. Dean glances back at him and smiles like he can see Cas’ desire written across his face. Dean walks over and leans over Cas, cupping his face in surprising tenderness and kissing him softly. They stay like that, lazily and gently kissing until they’re too late to hear Sam walk in. 

“Ew, gross!” he groans as he enters the kitchen, making a beeline for the coffee pot. “No PDA in the kitchen, it’s unsanitary.”

Dean pulls away with a slight blush across his freckled cheeks that just makes Cas want to kiss him even more. “The PDA or the kitchen?”

“Both,” Sam replies, but as he turns once retrieving a mug of coffee, Cas can see the playfulness in his eyes, the happiness there. 

“I’ll have you know that I keep this kitchen spotless,” Dean tells him. 

“Okay, then the PDA,” Sam amends. 

“Shut up,” Dean grumbles with a roll of his eyes. “Anyway, what do you want for breakfast?”

“I don’t care,” Sam shrugs. 

“I want pancakes,” Gabriel announces as he enters. 

“You don’t get to make requests,” Dean tells him. “And anyway, why do you even eat? Cas doesn’t eat.”

“I’m an archangel, buddy,” Gabriel informs Dean as if he didn’t already know. “I do whatever the hell I want.”

“Well, that’s great for you,” Dean nods sarcastically. “But I’m not making goddamn pancakes.”

“Uh, actually…pancakes kind of sound awesome?” Sam asks a little sheepishly from behind Dean. Dean turns on him, annoyed, but Sam’s already pulled the puppy dog eyes out and Dean glares at him for a long moment before throwing up his hands. 

“God, fine!” he relents. “Both of you, go sit with Cas and get out of my way.”

“Clearly, Dean’s very good at service with a smile,” Gabriel jokes and then holds up his hands in surrender when Dean spins on him looking almost murderous. “Just joking, yeesh!”

Dean bangs around the kitchen until he locates pancake mix. 

“Aw, not from scratch?” Gabriel whines and Dean turns on him angrily again. 

“Do you want pancakes or not?” Dean snarls. 

“You know, you need to lighten up, Dean-o,” Gabriel chuckles. 

“If you keep bugging me, I’m not going to give you syrup,” Dean threatens and Gabriel pouts. 

“What’s the point of pancakes without copious amounts of syrup?” Gabriel whines again and Dean nods. 

“Exactly,” Dean agrees. “So shut your freaking pie hole.”

Sam laughs at the two of them and looks at Cas. “So, Cas, how do you feel today?”

“Rested,” Cas tells him honestly. “I’m feeling extremely well. Dean’s ministrations this morning helped as well.”

Sam’s hand slaps his forehead, Dean drops a pan, and Gabriel bursts into laughter. 

“Castiel,” Gabriel slaps his knee. “You’re killing me, kiddo.”

“I believe you mean this sardonically?” Cas confirms. 

“Yes,” Gabriel leans over to pat Cas on the shoulder. 

“Cas, you can’t say that kind of stuff,” Dean tells him from across the room. “Especially not in front of little Sammy—we’ll end up permanently scarring him.”

“I’m not a child,” Sam gripes, then frowns at Cas. “But yeah, you will permanently scar me.”

“I’m sorry,” Cas pouts a little, which makes Gabriel laugh harder. 

“Oh, man!” Gabriel pretends to wipe a tear from beneath his eye. “You guys may be stupid, stubborn, and endless wrecks, but at least you’re funny.”

“Thanks, Gabe,” Dean grumbles from his spot whisking at the counter. Cas finds himself watching Dean as he goes about preparing the food, whisking in the bowl while simultaneously pouring oil into the pan and lighting the stove fire beneath. Gabriel, who sits next to Sam, nudges him with his elbow and points at Cas with a teasing grin. Cas doesn’t even seem to notice and Sam rolls his eyes, leaning closer to Gabriel and whispering, “This isn’t even weird. This is how it was even _before_ they started sleeping with each other.”

“That’s disgustingly adorable,” Gabriel comments. 

“I’m a celestial being,” Cas reminds them, flicking his eyes to them in irritation. “I can hear you when you’re whispering in another room, much less across the table from me.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t,” Dean pipes up from across the room. “Are they talking about us?”

“They’re calling us disgustingly adorable,” Cas tells him immediately and Dean turns around to glare at Sam and Gabriel, who now giggle. 

“Shut up,” he tells them, turning back and pouring the batter onto the pan. It doesn’t take long until Dean is carrying three plates stacked with four pancakes each over to the table. He goes to the cupboard and pulls out some syrup that he drops on the table. 

“Sorry that we don’t have any of the good artificial kind,” Dean shrugs at Gabriel. “Sam insists on buying this organic crap.”

“Sam, shame on you,” Gabriel admonishes. “Everyone knows that the artificial syrup is the best kind.”

“Yeah, well, this will less likely melt your teeth away with every bite,” Sam defends. 

“I think it’s very doubtful that synthetically manufactured maple tree extract would melt bone, Sam,” Cas says. 

“You tell him, babe,” Dean agrees, staring down at his food while cutting huge bites out of the pancakes. Sam glances up immediately, mouth already open to comment on the pet name, but when he sees Dean doesn’t even fully realize that he used a pet name, Sam decides against teasing him. There’s a beat of silence when both him and Gabriel silently agree not to comment, but Cas breaks the imperceptible brotherly agreement by continuing without noticing a thing. 

“The only way that an artificial product would melt solid bone would be if it contained some very hazardous chemicals, which if that were the case, I doubt your teeth melting away would really be your biggest concern. You’d probably be dead before you even noticed the liquidation of your teeth.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “It was hyperbole, Cas.”

“An exaggeration?” Cas frowns. 

“Yeah,” Sam confirms. “And anyway, even if the artificial stuff doesn’t melt your teeth, it is less healthy for you compared to the stuff I bought, which is all natural. Like, you know, actual maple syrup.”

“Oh,” Cas frowns, glances at Dean. “That actually does sound better.”

“No,” Dean shakes his head. “It may be all natural or whatever, but Sammy, you don’t eat pancakes to be healthy. You eat pancakes for a good enough reason to ingest the crappy artificial syrup. Back me up here, Gabe.”

“He’s absolutely right,” Gabriel nods, digging into his own pancakes. “That being said, I can’t tell if the pancakes are amazing, or if this syrup is actually good, but these are awesome.”

“It’s the pancakes,” Dean grins and says at the same time Sam states, “It’s the syrup.”

Gabriel leans over and wipes his finger over the nozzle of the syrup bottle, sticking it directly into his mouth. Dean and Sam scrunch their noses but say nothing. After a moment, Gabriel nods. 

“It’s the pancakes,” Gabriel confirms and Dean shoots Sam a winning grin. “That syrup is certainly no Mrs. Butterworth.”

“Aw, Butterworth,” Dean nods. “That’s the good stuff.”

“God, fine!” Sam groans. “When we go to the store, we’ll buy freaking Butterworth, alright?” 

“Damn straight,” Dean agrees with a grin, turning to Cas. “Do you want to try a bite?”

“It’ll only be molecules,” Cas replies sadly, and Gabriel’s eyebrows shoot up. 

“You mean…you haven’t learned how to taste food?” Gabriel asks and earns a glare from both Cas and Dean. 

“No,” Cas replies bitterly. “I could taste it when I was human, but since I’ve gotten my grace back, it was something I lost.”

“Well, little bro, today’s your lucky day!” Gabriel grins. “I’ve been around since the beginning of time, and if there’s one thing that I will ever want to pass on to you, it will definitely be this. It took me centuries as Loki to figure out how to make myself taste food, but I finally figured it out.”

“How?” Cas asks eagerly. 

“You know, I could teach you verbally, but that will take too long,” Gabriel tells him. “I’ll just do the whole Vulcan Mind Meld, it’ll be so much quicker.”

Without further preamble, Gabriel reaches across the table and touches Cas’ forehead briefly. When he pulls back, Cas stares at him. 

“That’s it?” Cas frowns, unconvinced. 

“That’s it, baby bro!” Gabriel agrees. “Try it.”

Dean offers a forkful of pancakes automatically and Cas takes it somewhat suspiciously, putting them in his mouth. His eyes widen as he chews and a grin slowly spreads across his face as he swallows. 

“I can taste it!” he rumbles gleefully and Dean jumps up immediately. 

“Alright, I’ll make some more!” he tells Cas, immediately pouring whatever batter was left into a few more pancakes. When he returns, Cas digs in with enthusiasm, pouring syrup over the doughy cakes and licking his lips. 

“This syrup is actually quite wonderful,” Cas comments, making Sam grin and Dean roll his eyes. 

“Yeah, because you have nothing to compare it to,” Dean tells him. “So, how’d you flick the taste switch on, anyway?”

“Angels exist on multiple planes of existence,” Cas begins and Dean sighs. 

“You know what, this answer is probably a little too theoretical physics for me,” Dean tells him. 

“Oh, it’s not theoretical physics,” Cas shakes his head. “You’re theoretical physics is really quite rudimentary and almost entirely wrong. No, our existence is easier explained through imaginary mathematics, quantum mechanics, and String Theory.”

“He basically flipped the taste switch,” Gabriel puts in, looking at Dean. 

Cas rolls his eyes slightly, but nods. “On an ethereal level, sure.”

“Okay,” Dean widens his eyes at Sam how returns the look with a roll of his eyes. “Anyway…since we’re waiting around for God with nothing else quite on our agenda, I’m thinking we should do a grocery run. Obviously, all four of us should not go, because…well, mainly because it seems annoying.”

“So, which one of us is going?” Sam asks and Dean squints for a moment before holding out his hands, coiled fist above palm. Sam grins, matching Dean’s pose. 

“Rock, paper, scissors!” they say in tandem, throwing their choices out at the last one. Dean chooses scissors, and Sam rock. Sam hits Dean’s scissors and grins. 

“Really, Dean,” he laughs. “Always with the scissors.”

“God, why do we always play that game,” Dean grumbles, rolling his eyes. “Fine! What are you craving for dinner this week?”

“I don’t know, whatever you want,” Sam replies. 

“I want whatever you want, Sammy,” Dean replies automatically, gathering his, Sam, and Gabriel’s plates while Cas finishes off his. “You want some coffee, Cas?”

“I’m not quite sure if I like coffee. Whenever I tried it when I was an angel, I liked the idea of it, the history of it, but I don’t know if I have a taste for coffee,” Cas admits and Dean scoffs.

“That’s blasphemy,” Dean tells him. 

“Not quite,” Cas disagrees and Dean rolls his eyes. 

“Well, maybe you’d like your coffee a little doctored like Sam,” Dean offers. 

“Doctored…with alcohol?” Cas frowns and Sam laughs. 

“No, that’s Dean’s doctored,” Sam tells him. “Doctored, like with cream and sugar. Makes it less bitter, more sweet.”

“The best kind is coffee with sweetened condensed milk,” Gabriel provides. 

“I’ll pick up all of that crap,” Dean rolls his eyes. “Sam, dinner?”

“I don’t know, Dean,” Sam groans. “Just…I’ll text you my selection, alright?”

“Fine,” Dean agrees. “Cas, do you want anything specific?”

“I want whatever you make me,” Cas tells him honestly and Dean rolls his eyes, but smiles. 

“Is there anything you really liked from when you were a human?” Dean asks. 

“Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,” Cas admits. “Grape jelly, though.”

“Because you don’t trust jam, yeah,” Dean nods, making a mental list. “Anything else?”

“I’ll enjoy anything and everything you make, I’m sure,” Cas tells him and Dean rolls his eyes again. 

“Don’t I get to make any requests?” Gabriel asks. 

“How long, exactly, are you planning on staying with us?” Dean sighs. 

“Until Daddy comes around,” Gabriel reiterates. “But I don’t know how long that will take, I could be here for weeks.”

Dean closes his eyes momentarily and takes in a long suffering breathe through his nose, blowing it out through his nose before opening his eyes again and fixing Gabriel with a fierce look. “I’ll get you a Snickers.”

“Done!” Gabriel agrees with a grin. “Love me some Snickers.”

“Alright, I’m going to go get dressed and head out,” Dean tells them. “You lazies get to clean up the kitchen.”

“Fine,” Sam agrees. “And buy me some apples!”

“Fine!” Dean agrees as he leaves the kitchen. 

As Dean leaves, Sam takes Cas’ now empty plate to the sink where Dean deposited the others. Cas stands and walks to Sam. 

“How can I help?” Cas asks. 

“Uh, well, when Dean said clean the kitchen, he really just meant do the dishes, and I kind of have that covered,” Sam tells him. “So you and Gabe can go…I don’t know, do whatever angels trapped in a bunker waiting for God do.”

“So, Twister,” Gabriel pipes up and Sam laughs. 

“Whatever floats your boat,” Sam agrees. 

“Well, I only want to play if I’m guaranteed to have those pretty long legs of yours wrapped around me in some way,” Gabriel replies and Sam chokes on air, turning to throw a glare at Gabriel’s flirting. 

“Gabriel,” Cas admonishes. “Come with me, we can discuss our father’s return.”

“Wow, that sounds super fun,” Gabriel replies, tone laden with sarcasm that goes completely over Cas’ head. Nonetheless, he follows Cas out, flashing a grin at the back of Sam’s head on the way. They end up in the library, as they usually do. 

“So, Cassie,” Gabriel smiles across the table at him. “Daddy’s back.”

“Yes,” Cas rolls his eyes. 

“What…what did he, uh, look like?” Gabriel eventually asks and Cas is surprised by the tenderness in his voice. 

“Chuck the profit,” Cas replies honestly and Gabriel’s eyebrows shoot up. 

“Wait…Dad’s wearing around a profit?” 

“Yes,” Cas confirms. 

“Huh,” Gabriel puckers his lips slightly. “I would not have pictured Dad as an alcoholic writer. But to each their own, I suppose. And was he well?”

“Well?” Cas frowns at his brother. “What way, exactly, are you thinking?”

“I don’t know, little bro,” Gabriel lets out a breathe through his nose, reaching his eyes to the ceiling for a brief moment. “You know, was he okay? Did he seem mentally unstable? Did he seem…like God?”

“He seemed…subdued,” Cas eventually replies. “As though he couldn’t really force himself into caring too much. Sam tried to punch him, but he didn’t seem angry, as I thought he would. Instead, he seemed like he didn’t want to argue.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Dad more than anything else,” Gabriel agrees. “All that wrathful crap, that was really just Dad calmly dictating to Luci or Mike, who then would go crazy. He never was quite the hugely angry and ambitious God that most Christian religions claim.”

“Interesting,” Cas comments. 

“Yeah, that he was,” Gabriel agrees. “So, you have to give me all the juicy gossip about you and Dean.”

“No, I do not,” Cas shakes his head with a frown.

“Aw, c’mon!” Gabriel laughs. “It’s a big brother’s right to know about all the fun sexy times his little brother gets himself.”

“Gabriel, I understand we’re brothers but I hardly know you,” Cas tells him. “In fact, what little I do know about you doesn’t exactly redeem you. You killed Dean hundreds of times to torture Sam.”

“I killed Dean to teach Sam a lesson,” Gabriel argues. “Dean was going to die, and the path that Sam went down afterwards was clearly not entirely healthy.”

“You transported them into a television universe where you made them play parts on shows and taped my mouth shut when I attempted to help them,” Cas points out.

“Okay, well, I was just trying to speed along the whole apocalypse thing,” Gabriel shrugs. “How was I supposed to know that they would take that the wrong way?”

“My point being, Gabriel,” Cas sighs. “If I’ve learned one thing from the Winchesters, it’s that family does not end in blood.”

“Their surrogate dad said that, huh?” Gabriel laughs. “Well, it’s a good quote. But Cassie, we’re closer than you think. I mean, I’ve been giving you a helping hand for as long as I can remember. Me and Balth, you were our favorite little warrior!” He leans over and ruffles Cas’ hair, which makes Cas scowl. “But I understand if you want to spend more time with me, get to know me. We’ll never be quite as disgustingly codependent as the Winchesters, but I’m sure you’ll grow to like me.”

“Grow to tolerate you, at the very least,” Cas quips and this makes Gabriel grin. 

“Looks like Chuckles the Angel does have a lick of humor in him!” Gabriel praises. 

“I’m very funny,” Cas scowls at him again.

“Clearly,” Gabriel laughs and then looks over to the hallway where Dean appears from. He looks between them for a moment before offering a tight smile. 

“Alright, I’ll be back in a little while,” he tells them. “If God shows up, tell him to chill til I get back.”

“Well, you are integral to the plan,” Gabriel smiles. “I don’t think we’d be able to get started without you.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah,” he says, then turns to Cas. “If you think of anything you want, food wise, either text me or have Sam text me for you.”

“Sure, Dean,” Cas tells him, smiling and Dean smiles back slightly, heading up the stairs. 

“Hey, will you make that Snickers a Kit Kat?” Gabriel calls after him. 

“No,” Dean calls back then slams the door closed behind him. 

“Prick,” Gabriel grumbles and Cas chuckles.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean drives to the supermarket by himself and wonders why he didn’t invite Cas. In the kitchen, he figured if Cas wanted to come, he’d just ask. But now sitting in the car alone, he wonders why he thought that Cas would invite himself along. Of course he wouldn’t—he’d wait for Dean to invite him along and if Dean didn’t, he’d just assume Dean didn’t want him to come. Dean silently curses himself, hoping that he didn’t insult Cas or anything. He blows out a long breathe through his nose as he thinks on that, rolls his eyes at himself. If Cas and he weren’t sleeping together, Dean wouldn’t think twice about leaving the angel behind for a quick supply run. As it is, Cas probably didn’t think anything of Dean’s lack of invitation. Dean sighs, knows he’s probably right in knowing he’s over thinking this. 

It’s not too far a drive from the Bunker to the market, and once there, he checks his phone and is pleased to see a list of meal requests from Sam. He likes cooking for Sam. It makes him feel like he has something actual to offer his little brother, who grew up with so little. 

‘Lasagna,’ the list Sam texted him begins. ‘That cut ham you got that one time. Some wheat bread because Wonderbread is gross, Dean. I was thinking maybe some sort of steak to cook up for when this whole Amara thing is done.’

‘Okay,’ Dean types back. 

‘Cas requests Twinkies,’ Sam shoots back and Dean rolls his eyes, not deigning it with a reply. Of course, he would buy the stupid Twinkies, but he will certainly also make fun of Cas just a little bit. 

He did his shopping quickly, picking up a few extra things like spinach that he disagrees with but also knows that Sam will appreciate. He also grabs some frozen fruit and other gross things that he knows his hippy brother will love throwing into their shiny old Men of Letters blender. He goes over to the fresh vegetable area and begins shoving different things in bags that he thinks he’s seen Sam buy before. 

“Freaking rabbit food,” Dean grumbles to himself and almost jumps when someone replies. 

“Not a vegetable guy, huh?” Dean turns to see a guy with a soft smile looking up at him. He can’t be more than twenty two. He has floppy sand colored hair and his smile is so kind that he reminds Dean vaguely of Sam the year he’d picked him up from Stanford so long ago. 

“No, not really,” Dean admits. “My brother likes all the healthy things. I’m more of a cheeseburger type of guy.”

“Me too,” the guy agrees, reaching by Dean and grabbing a head of broccoli. “My girlfriend’s sent me to pick up a bunch of crap for when her parents come to visit us—you know, so they think we’re healthy and not living off pizza.”

Dean laughs. “Pizza, huh? I’m sure her parents would be horrified.”

“Oh, they would,” the kid laughs as well, in agreement. “So, do you cook with vegetables?”

“I do when I have to,” Dean tells him. “I can, I mean.”

“Great!” the kid beams. “Listen, my name’s Sergio. Do you mind if I pick your brain about what to buy? My girlfriend also wants me to cook a meal, and I can barely microwave.”

“Dean. And yeah, I can help you,” Dean nods. “I grew up cooking simple meals—“ Dean’s cell phone interrupts him and Dean pulls it from his pocket, sees that it’s Sam. He answers it, holding up a finger to Sergio. “Sorry, give me a sec, Sergio.”

“Who’s Sergio?” It’s Cas’ voice that rings in Dean’s ears instead of Sam. 

“Cas,” Dean greets. “What are you doing on Sam’s phone?”

“He told me to call if I think of anything else I want,” Cas provides, and then there’s a ruffling as the phone transfers phones. 

“Who’s Sergio?” Gabriel asks again and Dean sighs, turning his back on Sergio as the kid searches through different vegetables looking like he’s approaching aliens. 

“No one, Gabe,” Dean sighs. “Put Cas or Sam back on the phone.”

“You’re not flirting with other boys, are you, Dean-o?” Gabe taunts, a serious edge just underneath the jest. 

“Gabe, I swear to God, I will hang up on you,” Dean threatens. “What did Cas want?”

There’s a rustling as the phone passes hands again. “Sorry, Dean,” Cas growls. “Ignore that idiot.”

“It’s fine, Cas,” Dean laughs. 

“I trust you,” Cas tells him. 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know, Cas. Did you want something? Because I actually am in the middle of something.”

“In the middle of who?” he hears Gabe holler from the background and there’s a noise that sounds suspiciously like a smack against the head followed by an audible, “Ow!”

“Why are we tolerating him?” Cas grumbles and Dean laughs. 

“Hey, he’s your brother,” Dean laughs. “Anyway, on topic, Cas! What do you want?”

“Twinkies,” Cas says and Dean slaps his forehead. 

“Yeah, Sam told me,” Dean says. 

“You didn’t answer, I wasn’t sure you received my request,” Cas tells him and Dean huffs out a sigh. 

“Cas, I got it, and I plan on getting them,” Dean replies. 

“Twinkies are extremely important, Dean,” Cas tells him and Dean rolls his eyes. 

“Okay, Tallahassee,” Dean says. “I’ll get the freaking Twinkies.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas replies and Dean can almost picture the well meaning smile that makes it worth it. 

“No problem, babe,” Dean rolls his eyes. 

“I like that,” Cas tells him. “Can I call you a pet name?”

“No,” Dean replies, astonished that he even used ‘babe’. Without further conversation, Dean hangs up and turns back to Sergio. 

“Sorry about that,” Dean apologizes. 

“No worries,” Sergio grins. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “My brother is not the only one I’m shopping for.”

“Girlfriend sending you out for food too?” Sergio asks. 

“Boyfriend, actually,” Dean replies immediately and then startles. What the hell was wrong with him? He wasn’t the kind of guy who went around and talked everyone’s ears off about his partners—hell, he never had partners to talk ears off about, not really. Not since Lisa. And even though he wasn’t explicitly ashamed of his sexuality, by any means, he didn’t go around telling random people about it. 

Before he can over think too heavily, however, Sergio just smiles at him. “Oh, okay. What he’d request?”

“Twinkies,” Dean blurts. 

“So your brother’s the only healthy one, I see,” Sergio laughs. “I’m jealous. My girl’s parents are here for an entire week. We’re going to have to eat like actual adults for the entire time.”

“Yeah, kid, that’s tough,” Dean laughs, stopping himself from telling the kind hearted child that the week not come to an end at all, if Amara gets her way. Instead, he focuses on practical advice. “Alright, kid, let me tell you about the wonders of using as little vegetables as possible. First lesson: onions. Onions are pretty much the only vegetable…like thing that makes everything taste good. Just cut them up and put them in literally everything. Along those lines, you seem like you’ve got the right idea with broccoli. Cauliflower is the same as broccoli, but better with cheese. Uh…what else?”

“Oh, dude, you’ve helped me enough,” Sergio grins and Dean’s astonished by the kid’s actual genuine gratitude after so little advice is given. “That right there was my quota for dinners.”

“Well, glad I could help,” Dean tells him. “Good luck with the parents.”

“Thanks, Dean,” Sergio extends his hand, and Dean shakes it. 

“Nice to meet you, Sergio,” Dean replies. “See you around.”

Sergio leaves and Dean finishes the rest of his shopping, returning to the Bunker before too long. When he opens the door, toting a couple large reusable bags that Sam insists on, he calls for his brother. “Sam! Come get the rest of the groceries from Baby!”

No one appears and Dean grumbles as he lugs the bags into the kitchen and then hears music from Gabriel/Cas’ room. He saunters in and stops when everyone freezes. 

“What…what am I looking at?” Dean can’t decide if he wants to laugh or cry. Before him, all three of the Bunker inhabitants are tangled in a weird sort of knot on top of a Twister board. 

“Uh…high stakes,” Sam eventually replies and Dean still can’t decide whether to laugh or cry. Finally, he just rubs a palm across his face and sighs. 

“I’ll just go get the rest of the goddamn groceries myself,” Dean says, turning from the room, and walking up to retrieve the rest of the bags from Baby’s trunk. When he delivers them and himself back into the kitchen, all three wait for him, and Dean says first, “I don’t even want to know.”

“Somehow, Gabriel convinced us that it was a good idea,” Cas slowly provides and Dean can’t help but laugh. 

“Well, Gabe, Cas I could see being convinced into Twister,” Dean says. “But I gotta give you props for Sam. I didn’t even know that seven foot of sasquatch could fit on a Twister board.”

“Hey!” Cas and Sam say in tandem. 

“What?” Dean laughs. “This is not the first weird thing I’ve walked in on in my life. This…might just be the funniest, though.”

“I do not think that my being convinced of playing Twister is any more believable than Sam’s,” Cas argues and Dean snorts. 

“Alright, babe,” Dean widens his eyes at Cas, talking through a laugh. “You’ve showed up before…butt ass naked…on my car…covered in bees.”

“I was insane,” Cas argues. 

“Just saying…” Dean winks. “But Sam playing Twister…now that’s a riot.”

“What about me? Isn’t this surprising coming from me?” Gabriel whines. 

“Really, Gabe?” Dean laughs. “No.”

“So who’s Sergio?” Gabriel asks and Dean sighs heavily, rolling his eyes. 

“A guy I was helping at the store,” Dean admits. “He has to cook for his girlfriend’s parents, I was giving him a few pointers. Jesus, Gabriel.”

“Just want to make sure your intentions with my brother are pure,” Gabriel tells him and Dean narrows his eyes, taking a step closer. 

“Like your intentions with mine?” Dean challenges. 

“Dean,” Sam gapes. 

“Sammy’s allowed to be whatever he wants with whoever he wants,” Dean continues. “He knows that. But he could definitely do a lot better than you.”

“Dean!” Sam gapes again. 

“Better than an archangel?” Gabriel scoffs. 

“Better than the selfish coward you are,” Dean replies, taking another step closer. “Sure, you’re a funny guy, Gabe. But you’re also a coward and if it came down to it, I wouldn’t trust you with Sammy’s lunch, much less his life.”

“Oh, and you think Cas’ deal with you is all peaches and cream?” Gabriel spits back. “Little Cassie, lucky for me but not so lucky for him, chose the wrong Winchester.”

Dean almost flinches, but restrains himself. 

“That’s enough,” Cas growls, stepping forward. 

“From both of you,” Sam adds with the same amount of steel in his voice. “What is this, a ‘you suck for my brother more’ contest? A) I’m not with Gabriel, Dean. And B) Dean is not the wrong Winchester. It was never a choice for Cas between me and Dean—that would just be weird. And even if it was, Dean’s a great person, you dick.”

“It was always Dean, will always be Dean,” Cas agrees and Dean glances at him briefly. 

“That’s cute,” Gabriel sneers. “But it doesn’t mean it’s not still the wrong choice. Cassie, people die around him. You are proof of that yourself. Almost everyone he’s ever loved has died, and he hates himself for it. Don’t you think you could find a better man to attach yourself to? One who’s not so…self destructive, who won’t end up hurting you?”

“There is no better man,” Cas snarls and Gabriel sighs, cards a hand through his hair. 

“Fine,” he throws up his hands. “Be obtuse. It’s your life, kiddo.”

Without another word, he’s gone from the kitchen. Although Dean can hope that he’s left the Bunker entirely, he knows it’s a small hope. 

“What the hell was that, Dean?” Sam turns on Dean and Dean glares at him. 

“Me?” he cries out. “Me? He started it!”

“Very mature,” Sam grumbles. “What the hell was with all that ‘he’s not good enough’ crap? Has it escaped your mind that you don’t get to tell me who is and isn’t good enough for me?”

“Of course I do!” Dean tells him. “That’s like…the only thing I get to do! I approved of Jess, didn’t I? And Sarah?”

“What does that matter?” Sam frowns. “And I don’t actually ever think you told me you approved of Jess.”

“Well, I dreamt you two were engaged when that Genii whisked me away, didn’t I? After only meeting her once? I mean, I feel like that screams pretty highly of my approval.”

Sam stares at him for a long moment before shaking his head. “That’s not the point. You can’t get all…weird older brother protective of me.”

“Are you kidding me, Sam?” Dean scoffs. “That’s, like, the only thing I can do. That’s the only thing I ever do.”

“Well…” Sam throws up his arms, groaning. “Stop!”

“Are you…are you throwing a tantrum?” Dean stops and stares at Sam. 

“No!” Sam says and very nearly pouts. 

“Oh my God,” Dean laughs. “You’re throwing a tantrum. I haven’t had to deal with this from you since you were ten. Twenty years and all you need to start another tantrum is an archangel with a sweet tooth.”

“God, shut up! If you want to misinterpret my anger as a tantrum, that’s your goddamn prerogative,” Sam swivels and stomps out of the kitchen, leaving Cas and Dean alone. 

“Well that was…explosive,” Cas comments and Dean offers a mirthless laugh. Cas studies Dean as he begins to unpack the groceries and slowly walks over to him, stilling his hand. 

“Dean,” Cas says softly, cupping his cheek when Dean turns. “What Gabriel said…it isn’t true.”

Dean’s eyes fall to Cas’ t-shirt, an old Zeppelin v-neck that Dean stole from his dad. “Thanks, but I think we both know that’s untrue. Your brother’s a giant bag of dicks, but he’s not wrong, which is what makes him so annoying.”

“He’s not right,” Cas agrues. “People don’t die around you or because of you. They die because they give themselves to noble causes, or to save you and Sam. It’s not your fault.”

“Sure, Cas,” Dean nods, trying to push his way past him, but Cas’ hand drops to Dean’s shoulders and forces him to stay in place. 

“It’s not your fault,” Cas reiterates and Dean rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, I get it,” Dean rolls his eyes but then pauses, finally looks into Cas eyes. Cas hates the turmoil of self loathing and pain that fights behind them. “Cas, why are you with me?”

“What?” Cas is startled by the question, certainly not what he is expecting. 

“Why…I mean, why are you with me?” Dean asks again, his eyes falling again. 

“Gabriel is going to die for putting doubt in your mind,” Cas practically growls. 

“It’s not only Gabe, Cas,” Dean admits slowly. “I mean, I know he was just saying things to get me riled up because I know he’s not good enough to woo Sam. No, I’m just genuinely curious why someone like you would want to be with someone like me? Is it because you marked my soul? If some other angel pulled me from Hell, would they have loved me like you do?”

Cas can almost nearly not find words for a moment before he forces himself to focus. “Someone like me?”

“Yeah, someone good,” Dean rolls his eyes. 

“Good?” Cas scoffs. “Dean, I’ve killed thousands of angels, thousands of people. I’ve brought on more pain than I’ve brought on peace. And yet somehow, in that twisted mind of yours, you still think I’m better than you?”

“I don’t think it, Cas,” Dean shakes his head. “I know it. You’re light, you’re kind, you regret every bad thing you’ve ever done as hard as you can.”

“Dean,” Cas sighs. “Do you truly believe you’re not light or kind? And as for regrets, you regret every mistake you’ve made, every death that you undeservingly put upon your own head, and somehow, on top of that, you’ve messed up only about half as much as I or Sam have, and you still think you’re worse?”

“It’s…I don’t know,” Dean groans. “It’s not something that I can easily explain. It’s like…no matter how much you and Sam mess up, you’re still…I don’t know…inherently good.”

“And you think that while we’re inherently good, you’re inherently bad?” Cas is completely baffled at just how deep Dean’s misconception of himself goes. 

“Maybe not inherently bad, but just not…good,” Dean shrugs and Cas wants to both kiss and beat the stupidity out of his Dean. 

“Dean Winchester,” Cas breathes out. “You are a good man. You are a great man. How can you not see this?” 

“Look…Cas,” Dean shakes his head, sighing deeply. He tries to pull away again and this time Cas lets him, doesn’t know exactly what to say or do to make this great man see himself as he truly is. “Let’s just…unpack the groceries.”

“And as for whether or not another angel would love you like I do, had they been the one to pull you from Hell,” Cas tells him as they both begin pulling things out of the bag. “I’ve already told you that my feelings for you were not Heaven-made. Whether or not another angel would have fallen in love with you, I do not know. But I know that the reason I fell in love with you isn’t because my grace marked your soul—it was because even from Heaven, even while you were torturing other souls and you thought you were the scum of the Earth, I could still see your soul. You shone brighter than anyone I’ve ever seen. Your soul can only compare to so many others. It’s strong, pure, and better than anything you can ever imagine, even after everything you’ve gone through. And beyond your soul, there’s you, Dean Winchester. Brave, selfless, ever the protective older brother. Your entire being is an amalgamation of beauty, and it breaks my heart that you cannot see yourself as I see you.”

Dean is slow to look up but eventually he does, turning to stare at Cas for a long moment. Finally, he manages, “God, you’re so sappy.”

Without a word more, they meet, lips clashing and hands searching for purchase. Their kiss isn’t gentle nor rough, isn’t angry nor sweet—rather, simply, impassioned with all that neither could say. They pull apart for a long moment, and Dean rests his head against Cas’. 

“I love you,” he murmurs to Cas and Cas nods gently where Dean’s head rests.

“I know,” Cas tells him. The pull apart and stare for a moment before going back to quietly unpacking groceries, Dean pointing Cas in the right direction of correct cupboards. Whatever he puts away incorrectly, Dean will fix later. They scarcely put the last of their supplies away when a knock at the archway of the kitchen draws their attention. Sam stands there, all past annoyance gone. In its place is fear. 

“Joshua’s here.”


	7. Chapter 7

Even though Dean knows that he’s ready for whatever is to befall him, his heart clenches. He nods to Sam lurking in the archway, turns to Cas, who is still in pajamas. 

“You’ll probably want to be dressed for this,” he murmurs and Cas hesitates. “We won’t leave without you,” Dean promises, and Cas nods, disappears into the hallway leading to his room. 

Dean follows Sam into the entryway where Joshua stands with Gabriel. 

“I see you’ve met our resident freeloader,” Dean grunts as he approaches Joshua. 

“You’re practically a dead man walking, Dean,” Gabriel tells him. “So I’m going to allow you all the personal jabs you want.”

“How kind of you,” Dean smirks. 

“That’s me,” Gabriel agrees. 

“Dean Winchester,” Joshua reaches out and pats his shoulder. “You may think that this is a fair way to equalize all the wrong you’ve done but…never before have I disagreed more profoundly than I do now.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Dean shrugs off Joshua’s condolences. 

“You know, Dean,” Sam tells him. “Nothing anyone has said about this at all makes me feel better about it in the least.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean replies. “But you’d hate it no matter what, might as well make the disagreement unanimous.”

“That’s not a good philosophy,” Cas comments as he returns to the group clad in signature trench coat and tie. 

“I’ve always hated philosophy,” Dean grumbles. “Come on, Joshua. Zap us out of here. Let’s get this show on the road.”

“As you wish,” Joshua says solemnly and they all gather around, putting hands on one another’s shoulders. In less than a blink of an eye, they reappear on the sunny beach where they met God the first time. 

“This is where the battle is going to be?” Dean asks a little incredulously. 

“Yes,” Chuck approaches them. “This is as good a place as any.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Dean replies, trailing off as Chuck walks right up to Gabriel and envelopes him in a hug without any sort of pretense. 

“Gabriel,” Chuck practically coos and Gabriel chuckles into his hair a little. 

“Hey, Daddio,” he laughs. “Haven’t seen you since I helped you disappear.”

“You helped him?” a familiar voice sounds from behind the group and all of the new arrivals turn to see a new face, one of a man who is tall with dark hair and brooding hazel eyes. 

“Lucifer,” Chuck almost chastises, but Gabriel’s already approaching Lucifer in his new vessel. 

“Hey, big bro,” Gabriel greets, pulling Lucifer into a stiff hug as well. 

“Last time I saw you, you were trying to kill me,” Lucifer hugs back, patting Gabriel on the back. 

“Last time I saw you, you were trying to kill everyone and everything,” Gabriel shrugs as he pulls away. 

“That is true,” Lucifer agrees, turns to the humans in the bunch. 

“So!” he grins. “We’ve got Energizer Bunny Castiel, Been-There-Done-That Samantha, and Suicidal Dean. Gangs all here, it seems! Ready to fight the Darkness and get cast back into internal damnation! This sounds fun and not at all unfair to the Bringer of the Light, at all.”

“You’re so whiny,” Dean grumbles and Lucifer is inches away from him before he can blink. 

“Careful, Dean-o,” he murmurs and Dean doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even narrow his eyes. Instead, he laughs right in Lucifer’s face. 

“All bark, no bite,” Dean murmurs back. “You can’t hurt me, I’m your only chance to stop Amara.”

“Yeah, but after we’ve got that all wrapped up?” Lucifer grins wickedly down at him. “You’ll be all mine to filet to golden brown…then again, the fate you face thanks to your end of the bargain…filleting you would be a mercy.”

“You guys are getting a little dramatic about this whole soul torture,” Dean leans forward even more, surprised when Lucifer backs away slightly. Dean chuckles, reaches out and pats Lucifer’s cheek. “Maybe you can dish it, Luci, but you can’t take it.”

“I pity you,” Lucifer whispers to him, conspiratorially. 

“Ditto, you giant asshole,” Dean replies and Dean can see the fire behind Lucifer’s eyes, see the anger, but knows he cannot help it. Finally, he steps back from Lucifer with a smirk, turning his back on him without a fear. 

“God, soul torture will be worth being able to do that to Lucifer,” Dean murmurs to Sam. 

“I wish you weren’t so flippant,” Sam tells Dean. 

“I wish you’d lighten up,” Dean retorts. 

“In the face of my brother getting his soul tortured by God? I don’t see how I can,” Sam snaps and Dean sighs. 

“Fair point,” Dean finally agrees. 

“Alright, Dean,” Chuck draws Dean’s attention. “We’re going to wait until Amara is with us and then…well, you know. I’ll begin on you.”

“Awesome,” Dean grimaces slightly. “When is Amara going to get here?”

“Soon,” Chuck tells him. “As soon as I take the warding off myself.”

“Well, let’s do it,” Dean persists. “The sooner we get this over with, the better.”

Chuck takes a deep breath. “No one attack until I start on Dean, understood?”

Everyone nods their understanding. 

“Alright,” Chuck nods. “Alright.”

Chuck closes his eyes and nothing seems to change, except when he opens them again, Amara stands before Dean and Chuck. 

“Brother,” Amara greets slowly, looking around her. “This is a much smaller army than last time. Are you somehow cockier than back then?”

“No,” Chuck shakes his head. “I’ve got a secret weapon.”

Amara looks to Dean and her eyes grow sad. “Dean,” she whimpers softly. “Dean, you’re better than this. You deserve more than this. Can’t you see that this just proves I’m the right answer? Your God is willing to torture you, probably beyond repair, for a battle he couldn’t win in the first place. I would never treat you this way.”

“I know you would never ask this of me,” Dean replies, stepping forward to her, making everyone tense. “But neither did they. I volunteered.”

She reaches up, draws a light line down Dean’s jaw with the tip of her pinky. “My beautiful Dean. I wanted to save you for many reasons: because we’re bonded, because your soul burns so bright that it’s nearly blindly. But mostly because you are the epitome of God’s perfection. You are what God was aiming for in humanity. When he first created you tiny pesky things to eclipse me, I was angry. But what I released when I met you…well, to a very small extent, it all made sense. Don’t make me destroy you with the rest of the world.”

“I’m not making you do anything,” Dean mutters, taking a step back again. “This world, this place that all you can see is evidence of your brother choosing his own creation over you, it’s my home. And even if you two giant scary entities want to fight over it like we small creatures mean nothing, that doesn’t make it true. We’re important. At least Chuck here has the decency to realize that I am not better than the rest. Amara, you say I am worth saving, but I’m not. Not more than anyone else in this world.”

“You’re wrong,” Amara tells him. 

“I’m really not,” Dean replies. 

“Amara, it’s time for the battle to begin,” Chuck warns her almost gently. “You could give up now, and we’ll lock you up. You can be at peace.”

“That cage you shoved me in is not remotely near peace,” Amara snaps at him. “And I will not go back without a fight.”

“So be it,” Lucifer calls from behind her. 

“Chuck,” Dean murmurs to God. 

“Yes, Dean?” Chuck asks and Amara’s attention is drawn back to the two of them. Dean doesn’t care. 

“Make sure nothing happens to Sam or Cas,” Dean tells Chuck. “Promise me that nothing will happen to Sam or Cas.”

“I promise,” Chuck agrees. 

“No, swear,” Dean furthers. “I don’t care what happens to me, but swear to me on…on…pain of oblivion or on the Word of God or on the entire Heavenly Host that nothing will happen to my brother or my…my Castiel.”

“I swear on all of those things, Dean,” Chuck nods solemnly. “Are you ready?”

“I think you mean am I ready?” Amara pipes in. 

Together, Dean and Amara say, resolutely, “Yes.”


	8. Chapter 8

Chuck turns to look at Dean and Dean crumbles to his knees. Sam thought it would be like when angels reach in to touch the soul, a physical act. But he supposes God doesn’t quite need that physicality. A detached part of Sam’s brain finds it vaguely fascinating, the way Dean’s eyes stare off and seem to see nothing at all. For a long, tense moment, all is silent. Then, Amara and Dean begin to scream at once. Dean crumbles further, lowering his head to his arms in the sand and hollering and screaming so loud and gruff and deep and pained that Sam wants to run to him, wants to stop it all—damn the world! But he knows he can’t do that, knows that he can’t stop when they’re just getting started and it’s going to get much, much worse. 

Cas feels sick to his stomach as he watches. Unlike Sam, Cas can view Dean’s actual soul, the way his father was twisting it and mangling it almost unrecognizably already. The pain that Dean screams is echoed not only in Amara’s voice, but also on the ethereal plane where his soul itself begs for mercy. Cas wants to run to his Dean, feels a rash feeling of protectiveness, protectiveness of his mate. He hates his father in that moment, more than ever before. 

It’s like Dean’s life blinked from reality to unreality and the switch was too quick for Dean to keep up completely. He’s standing on the beach and before his eyes, Amara walks forward, cups his face…stabs herself in the heart. He feels a break in himself, the part of himself that truly loved Amara shatter into painful shards. Still, he can’t force himself to find his voice. Then, Sam walks forward, stabs Dean in the chest—stab, stab, stab, stab. Dean can feel the pain of the blade slicing through his flesh and he wants to scream, but he can’t. Cas approaches him next, angel blade in hand, begins to carve out Dean’s eyes slowly, relishing each stroke of the knife. Still, Dean cannot force himself to yell his agony. It’s only when he sees, somehow through blood painted eyes, as Sam turns the knife on Cas and Cas the blade on Sam. That’s when he first finds his voice, screaming out in terror as the two people he loves most in the world slice each other into barely recognizable versions of themselves. When at last they’ve had their full of ripping into one another, they both turn towards Dean. 

“You weren’t enough,” Sam tells Dean, “to keep me safe. You weren’t enough to keep me here.”

With that, he cleanly slices the blade into his heart, falls to the ground. Dean can’t move or else he would have gone to his baby brother, the boy he raised, the boy he loved. He can feel the sobs making his chest feel like raw ribbons of useless flesh. He can hear his agonized screams turning his throat into a waste of bloody nothingness. 

Next, Cas steps forward. “I could never love you,” he tells Dean. “I could never want to force myself to stay with you. Staying with you is worse than this death. I want to kill myself just to get away from you.” Cas shoves the angel blade deep into his stomach and his grace lights up, his eyes blow out. Dean screams somehow harder, sobs somehow deeper—and in a flash, it’s a different scene and Dean doesn’t remember anything…just watches as his mother carves into baby Sammy with a knife. 

“You’re supposed to keep him safe, Dean,” she tsks. “Does this look like Sammy’s safe?”

The newborn in her arms is completely still—dead. 

The scene changes again, this time to his father lifting fist after boot after fist against Dean. “You were never my son,” he screams. “You were just a weapon.”  
Scene after scene of the worse things that Dean can come up with, all of it as real in the moment. Every scene with a shred of real belief beneath it, taken from the deepest, darkest recesses of Dean’s mind. 

It’s when Dean falls silent that Sam begins to truly worry. At this point in the battle, Cas, Gabriel, Lucifer, and God—that is, as much of God as he can spare while simultaneously manipulating Dean’s soul—have gone full force against Amara. Sam thinks that it should be ended by now, should be over. What they didn’t count on was for Amara to try to protect Dean. The moment the screams started, not only was Amara in pain, but also angry at the pain God was causing Dean. Sam almost wants to agree with Amara. Now they have to beat her back and though Sam can see she’s obviously weakening, as Dean’s screams die down to pitiful whimpers and then to nothing, just a heap of his brother staring at the waves lapping too close to his face. Amara, however, is still screaming in pain, which Sam, oddly, takes as a good sign. If Amara is still in pain, that means Dean’s still alive, still awake inside that vacant stare. Sam hates sitting on the sidelines as everyone else fights his battle, but he can’t think of how to help other than try not to distract any of them. 

When it finally does end, it’s over so quick that Sam is almost caught off guard. One moment, Amara is advancing towards Dean, the next, Lucifer is shoving a giant spear through her middle, and God is pulling forth the Mark of Cain on her shoulder, reflecting it on Lucifer’s arm. Amara screams louder as the Mark pulls her in, and she tears at the ground, eyes fixed on Dean. It’s so quick, though, that Sam doesn’t get to revel in their victory. The moment Amara is pulled into her cage, God is turning on Lucifer and commanding him back into his own Cage in Hell. Again, so quick that Sam is almost angry with God for not stepping up during the Michael vs. Lucifer show down, if it had been so easy. Gabriel and Cas drop to the ground, exhausted and fumbling before falling on their asses, showing Sam that it wasn’t quite so easy. Even Chuck looks exhausted. However, he goes to Dean first, touches Dean across the forehead…and nothing happens. 

“No…” Chuck murmurs and he cups both of Dean’s cheeks in his hands. 

“What do you mean ‘no’?” Cas growls as he stands and stumbles over to kneel next to Dean. 

“We fought…the fight…it lasted longer than I expected,” God admits and Sam is sprinting to his brother before his brain has time to catch up with his feet. 

“No,” Sam whimpers. “No. You said you could fix him, put him back to normal.”

“I’ve restored his soul,” Chuck reassures. “It’s the…mental aspects of the torture that are still seemingly plaguing him.”

“What?” Cas demands, reaching forward but Chuck immediately grabs his hand, shaking his head. 

“Castiel,” he warns. “You, of all people, do not want to see what is going on in there right now.”

“What?” Cas sounds as if he’s going mad, whipping his hand from Chuck’s grasp. “Let me—“

“No,” Chuck’s commanding tone surprises everyone. “If you take one word of advice from me, be it this: do not reach out to your mortal right now. If you do, it could greatly endanger you both.”

Cas takes a step back, if not by actual choice, by reflex to the voice that was literally built to command the Heavenly Host. 

“Come on, we need to get him somewhere safer than this,” God commands and immediately, all of them are in the Bunker again. Cas and Sam stand alone in the living room, and the moment they get their bearings, they race to Dean’s room. They throw open the door to see Chuck and Gabriel lowering Dean carefully onto his mattress. Dean’s eyes are closed now, and he shivers slightly. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Sam demands. 

“Remember after Castiel broke your wall?” Chuck reminds and Cas flinches slightly. “You began to see what was in your head—ie, Lucifer—outside in the real world. Dean is experiencing the exact opposite: he’s experiencing everything in his head like it is the real world. He can’t differentiate between the nightmares playing around in his head with the outside world.”

“You did this to him,” Sam growls. 

“He volunteered,” Chuck reminds. “And, Samuel, if you try to punch me again, I will transport you to the other side of the U.S. and make you Grand Theft Auto your way back to your brother’s recovery, are we clear?”

Sam barely manages not to fly off the handle, but he’s almost pleased when he feels the same amount of rage vibrating through Cas next to him. 

“You can fix him, right?” Cas demands. “You promised to fix him.”

“I’m working on it, Castiel,” Chuck snaps. “I know that you two love him, but that does not negate my own feelings for the brave eldest Winchester. I will do everything in my power to help him. You should feel good—you actually have God on your side. Now, if you excuse me, I have to go grab someone, I’ll be back in a moment.”

Chuck blinks into nonexistence. The moment he does so, Sam and Cas both take a step forward. 

“Not so fast,” Gabriel warns. “Sam, you can go to his bedside, but Cas—Dad was right. I’ve touched Dean, I’ve seen into his mind’s eye…you don’t need nor want to see it.”

“I’m perfectly capable of touching him without looking into his mind,” Cas snaps. 

“Not right now, you’re not,” Gabriel shakes his head. “Right now, everything he’s feeling is too powerful not to siphon off a bit. And if I didn’t like what I saw, you’re going to absolutely loath it. Dad was right when he said whatever you see…it could endanger you both. So stay by the door, Chuckles. We’ll get your boyfriend back to new as quick as we can.”

Before Cas can reply, Chuck reappears toting an older Southern gentlewoman that Sam recognizes after a startled moment. “Missouri?” he asks and she turns to him, wrapping him into an immediate hug. 

“Sam!” she greets a little too enthusiastically for what the situation calls for. “This man who I can see is God, but just can’t simply wrap my head around believing just quite yet came and got me, said you boys needed help! What have you got yourself into now?”

She turns and sees Dean’s prone form on the bed. “Oh,” she says quietly, walking over to him. “What have we here?” She leans down and rests a palm across his forehead. The moment she makes contact, her eyes well up with tear and she tears her hand away, turning slowly to face Chuck. 

“You did this to this poor boy?” she stutters and Chuck slowly nods. “You…you are no God of mine.”

Chuck sighs. “I’m sorry,” he tells her. “We need your help.”

“Yes, that much is very true,” Missouri replies, wiping tears from her eyes that are still streaming. “I am a healer before I am anything else, and this boy needs my help. You…you monster…the things this boy’s seen.”

She puts a hand over her mouth for a long moment before clearing her throat. “I need all of you out,” she tells them. “We’ve done everything we can do for today. This kind of sickness…it needs time. You—“ she points at Chuck. “—will come in every day and give him a good shock of that God juice of yours, it’ll be like a multivitamin. And you—“ now she points at Gabriel. “—will come in every day as well.”

“I’m not part of this,” Gabriel tries and Missouri takes a threatening step towards him. 

“Boy, did that sound like a negotiation?” she demands and Gabriel looks both dumbfounded and slightly intimidated. 

“No, ma’am,” he eventually replies and she nods. 

“Sam, dear,” she says next. “I’m going to need to mix up some potions, I suppose you can help me with that? You were always so good at that, weren’t you?” 

She begins out the door but stops when she passes Cas. She slowly turns to him, reaches up and cups both his cheeks in her hands. “And you, my dear,” her eyes well with tears again. “You cannot touch him. I know the love between the two of you, and believe you me, he’ll need it before this is over. But right now, what he’s got going on in that melon of his…it’s nothing that you need to see. Love is a great thing in many ways…but in this case, it would simply corrupt you as well, and we need you to stay whole. Understand me, dear?”  
Cas is slow to reply, but eventually nods. 

“That’s a good boy, now,” Missouri agrees. “Now, come on, Sam. Bring me to the ingredients. Castiel, you should probably come with us too.”

Sam and Cas take Missouri out of the room and Cas finds it much easier to simply follow her directions, even if all he wants to do is kneel at Dean’s bedside and pray to the father that he was incorrect to believe in, the father who had been the one to do this to his Dean. 

“I’m going to make a few potions and elixirs and whatnot,” Missouri tells them as they enter the room where all the magical ingredients they could possibly want are stored. Dean dubbed the room upon their exploration of the Bunker as the Big Pantry—as opposed to the Small Pantry which is located next to the kitchen and holds actual food stuffs. Sam works on calming his panicked pulse as Missouri begins to talk Sam through the different ingredients she requires. It takes them a little while to gather everything, but eventually they’ve got it all and they move into their usual haunt: the library. 

As they walk into the library, Sam is frozen in place as he hears a distant moan. He knows that it’s Dean, glances back and debates whether he should run to the room, knowing that God and Gabriel are there already, probably doing whatever they can. 

“Are you going to help me with this, Samuel?” Missouri calls to him, pulling his attention back to the task at hand. He glances at Cas, sees the troubled expression. He knows that Cas wants to return to Dean’s bedside just as much as he does, and he tries to catch Cas’ eyes, offer some sort of…what? Offer comfort that they both know will do nothing for either of them? Sam sighs softly as he focuses on Missouri’s instructions. Many minutes pass before Sam finally works up the courage to look at Missouri from his workstation, clear his throat. Missouri doesn’t look up which makes Sam’s resolve falter again. 

“Come on, boy,” Missouri encourages before Sam can decide to speak or not. “I heard you clear your throat, I can feel your eyes. Spit out your question.”

“Is…Is he going to be okay?” Sam’s voice breaks, and if his brother wasn’t dying, he’d almost be embarrassed. Cas’ head snaps up from his spot down the table and his hands still. Missouri sighs down at her hands before pausing her own work and looking up at the two men. 

“I believe so, yes,” Missouri says slowly. “But...this isn’t something he can just brush off after a few days in bed. His head right now…it’s a warzone. It’s…violent and angry. It’s everything he fears and hates, especially about himself, turning full force on him. And you know Dean, there’s a lot of ammo in that mind of his.”

“So…” Sam tries to focus on just one question. 

“Sam, my boy,” Missouri sighs again. “If you want a bottom line, I can give it to you: he’ll survive. But whether he’ll live or not…that’s a different question. I have my hopes because he has such wonderful people surrounding him. You two, to begin with. Me, as well. I will stay with you boys for as long as you need, maybe even a little longer after that, just so I can really make sure you’ll be alright without me. But…for now, we just need to focus on what we can do with our own two hands and hope for the best.”

All is silent among them for a long moment before Sam’s shoulders hump a little. “Thank you, Missouri,” he tells her genuinely. 

“You’re welcome, sugar,” Missouri nods. “Now get back to work.”

It doesn’t take long for all of them to fall into a short routine during the first few days. Dean stays relatively immobile, with a few instances of groaning or screaming in his sleep and light thrashing. In the morning, Missouri spoon feeds his unconscious form elixirs and potions that she’s fixed. After that, God and Gabriel come in to use their powers to heal him, both placing their hands on Dean’s chest for minutes on end until the air is practically buzzing with unused energy. After that, Sam and Cas sit in the room with him. The first day, it’s both of them. They sleep through the night hunched over in chairs. After that, Missouri forces Sam into his own bedroom but cannot make Cas budge. 

“I do not need to sleep,” Cas snaps at her anytime she tries to tear him from the chair. “If you will not allow me to touch him, then let me simply be with him.”

This leads to a rather large fight between Cas and Missouri, who refuses to take sass from any of them, including Chuck. It eventually ends with Missouri allowing Cas to stay in the room, but forcing more food than ever down Sam’s throat to make up for it. 

The third day, Sam wanders in and out of Dean’s room. He’ll leave to do something for Missouri, Chuck, or Gabriel, but find himself perched once again on the edge of the bed or chair the moment he finishes. He and Cas don’t really speak when they’re alone in Dean’s room, the sorrow and fear too thick in the air to allow for conversation. However, on the third day, Sam sighs and seemingly makes Cas jump slightly. 

“Should we talk to him?” Sam murmurs softly and Cas looks at him, eyebrows raised in silent question. “Like a coma patient, I mean. Should we talk to him? Instead of just pretend he’s asleep?”

Cas stares hard at Sam for a long moment before shrugging. “Do you think it would help?”

“I don’t know,” Sam admits. “Maybe he’ll be able to hear?”

“Talk to him,” Cas encourages blankly. 

Sam gives him a sharp look before turning back to his brother. “Uh…Dean?” he tries and doesn’t know why he feels slightly disappointed when Dean makes no move. “Dean…We know that…uh…that you’re fighting. Or at least, we hope you’re fighting…fighting whatever is happening in that thick skull of yours.”

Sam finds his voice thickening and clears his throat. “Man,” he says after another moment. “This is harder than I thought it would be.”

“Take your time, Sam,” Cas tells him mechanically and Sam is caught between the impulse to smack him and to hug him. 

“Cas, man, why don’t you give it a go?” Sam suggests and this time Cas actually looks at him, confusion furrowing his brow slightly. 

“Give it a go?” Cas asks. “What…what should I say?”

“I don’t know, man,” Sam sighs. “What do you want to tell him?”

Cas purses his lips. “A lot of things. That he’s stupid for putting himself through this, that I want to kill Chuck for suggesting it.”

Sam huffs out half a laugh. “Alright, how about more constructive things than that, Cas. Positive.”

“That I love him,” Cas’ voice drops down so low that Sam almost doesn’t hear—but he does, and it takes a long moment for Sam to control his emotions enough to be able to speak again without his voice breaking. 

“I know, Cas,” Sam tells him. “I’m…I’m sorry. I’m…so sorry.”

“I know, Sam,” Cas replies, nodding but still staring only at Dean. “This hurts you just as much as it does me.”

Sam nods. “Why…why doesn’t he wake up?” This time, Sam doesn’t fight it when his voice breaks a little and a lone tear rolls down his cheek. He wipes it away with the flat of his palm in such a way that screams Dean that Sam’s heart breaks even more. 

“Because he can’t find his way back out to us,” comes a reply from behind them and both men spin around to see Gabriel leaning in the doorway. 

“Can’t…can’t find his way back to us?” Sam repeats. 

“Yeah,” Gabriel nods. “He’s lost and he can’t find a way back. He’s fallen off the boat and we need to throw him some floaties to put on those well toned arms of his.”

Sam and Cas both frown at Gabriel as he walks into the room. 

“Don’t look so constipated,” Gabriel scoffs. 

“Why are you telling us this?” Sam asks slowly. 

“Because, you giant, I may not be the first brother to defy my father—that was always Luci’s gig, after all—but sometimes shit needs to get done,” Gabriel tells them. 

“Defy our father?” Cas raises his eyebrows. 

“You, my feathered friend,” Gabriel points at him. “Since we’ve dragged the eldest Winchester back here, it’s been under order of God for you to not touch him, correct?”

“Order of everyone, actually,” Sam corrects. “You weren’t gung ho for him to touch Dean either.”

“Yeah, well,” Gabriel shrugs. “That was before when I thought Dean would find his way out in a day, tops. That was foolish of me, of course, especially considering some of the shit he’ll probably be wading through waist deep in his own subconscious. Anyway, I think we need a new approach. Daddy disagrees. He thinks if we just keep doing this steady treatment of potions of Magic God Fingers, than eventually, Dean will wake up.”

“And you think we need to try something else?” Sam raises his eyebrows. 

“I think we need to try some _one_ else,” Gabriel specifies then lets his eyes rest on Cas. 

“I’ll do whatever you think will help Dean,” Cas says immediately. 

“I know, kiddo,” Gabriel nods. “What we need is a new angle. Mind melding with Dean would still be very dangerous at this point, so we need to avoid that. But you and Dean-o, you have a special bond. Like, beyond the whole love crap, you have an actual physical mark on his soul.”

Cas’ eyes immediately look to Dean’s upper arm where he knows the brand of his hand to be. He’s standing before anyone else can say anything, but pauses, looking back at his audience. 

“You’ve got the right idea,” Gabriel encourages, and Cas looks to Sam. Sam stares back at him for a long moment before nodding. 

“Just…be careful,” Sam suggests softly, and Cas nods. He goes to Dean and pulls up his shirt sleeve gently, revealing the red hand mark. He stares down at Dean for a long moment before carefully placing his hand over the mark. For a moment nothing happens, but the more he focuses on the contact, the more heat wells beneath his palm. He focuses on the connection and the man beneath his palm. He closes his eyes, thinks only of Dean’s name over and over again. His eyes pop open the moment the man beneath him stirs slightly. He not only feels it in the physical tensing of muscles, but through there bond. Cas can’t quite understand it, but he feels Dean, as though Dean is reaching out to him. Not so much unlike a prayer, but rather more subconscious—a baser need, deeper than a prayer. 

“Dean,” Cas murmurs and Cas watches as Dean’s eyes flicker beneath his lids. So close. Dean is so close. Before he can follow through and pull Dean completely free, Gabriel’s hand clamps down on his shoulder and pulls him away. Before he can protest, however, all of his energy leaves him as his hand leaves Dean’s mark. He falls into the chair Gabriel pushes him onto and groans slightly. 

“What the hell was that?” Sam asks, both excited and concerned. 

“A start,” Gabriel replies. 

“A start to what?” Sam frowns. He watches Cas cautiously, watches how his chest heaves yet his eyes still do not leave Dean. 

“A start to fixing your goddamn stubborn ass brother,” Gabriel replies. “I was right to think the bond that connects Dean and Cassie would be incremental to Dean’s healing, but I didn’t think it would take quite that much out of Cas. We’ll have to do it in stages, just like the rest of his healing.”

“Well, that’s good, though!” Sam exclaims. “That’s a good thing! It means we’re getting somewhere. He moved, Cas. Dean moved. He looked like he was just about to wake up.”

“Yeah,” Gabriel agrees. “That certainly helped.”

“Good,” Cas manages. 

“Clearly you need to rest a little, though,” Gabriel tells him. “If you want to save your boyfriend, you’re going to have to give him an awful lot.”

“I’ll give him everything,” Cas replies immediately. 

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Gabriel replies, rolling his eyes. “But I’m sure we all appreciate the sentiment.”

“I do,” Sam tells Cas, standing and patting Cas on the back. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Sam,” Cas nods, finally managing to reign in enough energy to sit up straighter. “Why did he draw on our bond in such a way?”

“I said throw him a flotation device, and you’re surprised when he tugs on it?” Gabriel asks. 

“I thought you meant…metaphorically,” Cas replies. 

“No, you’re very literally his way out,” Gabriel laughs a little. “You’re the magnet, you’re the floatie, you’re the rope, you’re the exit.”

“So I need to hold on for long enough to pull him out,” Cas states. 

“That may be a problem, yeah,” Gabriel scrunches up his forehead as he tries to concentrate. “I’m not sure if he’ll slip farther away every time you let go. Let’s hope not. We may need a…a two-pronged approach.”

“I was wondering when you boys were going to reach that conclusion,” Missouri says as she opens the door and walks into the room with an eyebrow cocked and a very small smile. “Are we done pretending I don’t know what’s going on in here now?”

“I guess we are,” Gabriel agrees with a smile. “You thinking what I’m thinking, Miss Missouri?”

“That’s Mrs. to you, angel,” Missouri corrects and Gabriel smirks slightly. “And as a matter of fact, I am thinking what you’re thinking. Regarding Dean, that is. The rest of your head is filthy, Gabriel. The holy blood that runs through your veins should be boiling over at this point.”

“You can read angel’s minds?” Sam asks, his eyes lighting up in fascination. 

“I can read the lights dancing around in their vessels,” Missouri nods after a moment. “It’s a little more complex, but still similar enough to human’s that I can make do. Now, Gabriel, heal up this brother of yours before I smack you!”

Gabriel chuckles as he walks to Cas and touches the tip of his nose with a “Boop.”

Cas feels rested once more, feels his own grace feeding from the energy Gabriel provided. 

“Very good,” Missouri approves. “What’s going to happen now is a little tricky. It’s a psychic’s trick, being able to walk around another person’s mind. It’s terribly difficult, I’m afraid, which is why I wanted to watch Gabriel’s little experiment before committing myself to this method. However, it seems Dean needs this, so that’s that.”

“What are you talking about Missouri? Walking around in other people’s minds sounds like Dream Root, and you vetoed that idea when I offered it,” Sam says. 

“Honey, certain people don’t need Dream Root to dream walk,” Missouri tells him. “I can do it all by my lonesome. But it takes quite a bit of practice, and a lot of energy on my part.”

“So you’re going to…walk around in the chaos that is Dean’s mind right now, find him, and help him…what? Grab on to Cas’ rope?” Sam frowns. 

“Yes,” Missouri confirms. “Essentially.”

“Oh,” Sam grimaces slightly but nods. “Well…I mean, okay. This won’t get anyone hurt, will it?”

“Not as far as I can tell, no,” Missouri shakes her head, then looks to Cas. “Give me a couple minutes to locate Dean and then work your magic, alright sugar?”

Cas nods and watches as Missouri kneels on the ground next to Dean’s bed, resting her forehead against the mattress and her hand against Dean’s cheek. Her body is relaxed but her eyes move rapidly behind her closed eyelids. 

Missouri knows what she will drop into, but she doesn’t expect the atmosphere. She felt it before, vaguely, when Dean was first brought into the Bunker—the raw emotion that ran through his head was like knifes in Missouri’s heart. Even knowing that, she doesn’t expect the almost humid presence she feels now, in Dean’s mind. It’s like a weight on her chest, pressing on her to a point past pain. She gasps for a moment before she gets a grip on her surroundings and can force herself to focus. She’s in a forest, that much she can tell. Purgatory. She can sense the answer, can read it through Dean’s distant memories. She stands alone for a moment, listening, searching. It doesn’t take her long to hone in on Dean, seeing as he’s the only tangible presence she can feel in his own mind. The rest of the darkness lurking around her and filling the air is simply figments—real to Dean, but insubstantial to Missouri. She stomps through the underbrush until she sees him, pressed against a tree trunk looking simultaneously fierce and frightened. 

His eyes flit around and land on Missouri eventually, but do not stay on her. He rides her off as another threat instantly and Missouri can tell that even though she cannot see the forms of the threats around her, Dean is horrified. He’s muttering something under his breath that takes a long moment for Missouri to decipher. After a moment, she hears him murmur on an endless loop, “Me, me, me. Kill me. Kill me. Me. Me. Me.” His eyes pass over her again and stay a little longer this time as she gets closer. When she’s just five or six feet away, his eyes are frozen on her. 

“What do you see?” Missouri asks. 

He stares at her, his litany paused for a long moment before he snaps himself out of it and replies, “Everyone…everyone I know…or love. They’re…they’re giving me a choice: either they kill me or they kill themselves. And I…I keep telling them to choose me…but they’re not listening.”

As if a dam broke, the figments of darkness around Missouri, before intangible, now morph into the full figures that Dean sees. And with the figures comes the noise, which is deafening. They’re all screaming at Dean at the top of their lungs, as loud as they can. Missouri looks around in horror, noting a few faces she recognizes: Mary, John, Bobby. Many, many more that she doesn’t recognize, all screeching for Dean’s attention. 

“I die or you die, Dean!” John yells at the top of his lungs. 

“Me!” Dean screams back, but John just continues to yell the ultimatum while plunging a dagger into his heart over and over again. 

“Why won’t you save me, Dean?” Mary screeches at Dean. “You just need to choose me. I kill you or I kill myself, Dean. Which?”

“Me, Mom,” Dean sobs out. “Kill me.”

“Which?” Mary screams louder, taking a kitchen knife and slicing her throat to ribbons. 

“I need to get you out of here,” Missouri tells Dean and Dean looks at her. How he even heard her over the screams of the dead, Missouri does not know, but she’s glad he did.

“Get me out?” Dean nearly whimpers. 

“Dean, you’re trapped inside your own noggin,” Missouri tells him. “We’re going to get you out. We’re going to save you yet!”

At that moment, a sort of electricity bristles the air and the dark, wet, warm anger and sorrow and fear that permeates Dean’s mind so completely is suddenly at war with another sort of energy. Missouri knows, without a doubt, that Cas has put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. 

“Dean, do you feel that?” Missouri asks him. “That’s your angel. That’s your Castiel.”

“Cas?” Dean whimpers, looking over at a figure a little farther back in the trees, stumbling forward while also screaming: Castiel, raking an angel’s blade through his middle. 

“Not that Castiel,” Missouri tells him, stepping in front of Dean. “The real Castiel. You can feel him, Dean. Just focus.”

Dean squints and stares. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“This,” Missouri makes a grand gesture at the chaos around them, “is in your head. We’re trapped in your mind.”

“No, I get that part,” Dean rolls his eyes weakly, surprising Missouri enough for her to ignore his sass. “I mean, I don’t understand how you’re here. I figured…well, maybe Sam would come in after taking some Dream Root and then I might stand a chance of finding my way out. But I don’t understand why you’re here, Missouri.”

“Dream Root is too dangerous,” Missouri shakes her head. “This isn’t just a dream, Dean. This is your mind’s recollection of God’s torture, the way your mind is dealing with your soul being mangled. Your soul may not yield any scars, but your mind is beyond marred. And with that sort of pain comes power. If we were to enter your mind right now under Dream Root…we may not make it out.”

“This is…” Dean looks past Missouri to his loved one’s gutting themselves and grimaces. “I don’t want to call what’s happening right now an improvement, but…I don’t know how long I’ve been stuck in here in real time—days, weeks, whatever. What it feels like in here…it’s not time. It’s just…moments. And right now, this whole scene—it’s a lot better than ones before it. I…I remember everything. This is…gruesome, but it’s nowhere near the worse my fucked up head has to offer.”

“I know, honey,” Missouri tells him. “Which is why we have to get you out. I’m sure glad you’re at least lucid, though. That makes this easier.”

“I am right now,” Dean shrugs. “Give me five minutes.”

“That’s not encouraging, sugar,” Missouri tsks. “Now…that angel of yours, Castiel? He’s reaching out to you. Can you feel it?”

Dean’s hand wanders up to his shoulder as if of its own volition and he slowly nods. “Yeah,” he replies. 

“Good, that’s good,” Missouri nods. “Now, just…focus on that connection. Let him pull you out.”

Dean frowns at her. “Like…just close my eyes and focus?”

“Exactly, boy,” Missouri nods urgently. “And we only have a limited amount of time, so you need to do it now.”

Dean frowns, but closes his eyes. His hand tightens around the mark under his shirt and he can feel the pull of Cas, the pull on their bond. He focuses solely on the tug in his gut and he doesn’t even notice as the screaming around him vanishes. Missouri watches as the scenes change around them. Trees melt into a motel bathroom where a lovely little redhead lies dead in the bathtub. Next comes a boy lying on the steps of the library at the Bunker, his eyes burned from his skull. Missouri recognizes these as Dean’s worst memories. A woman and her son heaped in blood and gore against a park bench. This one looks a little too pearly for Missouri to trust. Not a memory, then—a fear. They’re in this fear for too long and Missouri looks back at Dean, whose face is scrunched up, his eyes screwed shut still. His breathe comes quickly in gasps. 

“Dean?” Missouri steps forward. “You need to focus, Dean. Castiel. Focus on Castiel.”

“Cas,” Dean groans again and the scene flickers around them, but doesn’t change. Missouri curses up a storm silently then bridges the gap between her and Dean, slamming her hand against Dean’s that sits atop the hand print. 

“Focus, boy,” Missouri demands. “You can do this. We’re closer now, just focus.”

Dean groans but the scene flickers around them again and changes this time. Missouri almost gasps as she sees Sam kneeling before them, begging Dean to end him. He’s torn to shreds and Missouri can hear the growls of Hell hounds around them. Even though she knows they’re not real, a shiver creeps up her spine. 

“Castiel,” Missouri reminds Dean. “Focus, Dean. You can do this.”

The scene flickers and changes again and Missouri doesn’t recognize the man that stands before them, doesn’t understand why while everyone before him was bloody and beaten, he stand perfectly whole. 

“My dear Dean,” the man speaks and Missouri feels like crying just for the way the man’s tongue rolls Dean’s name like he owns it, with the familiarity of an enemy and a lover. Dean’s eyes pop open. 

“Alistair,” Dean whimpers. 

“Dean, focus on Castiel,” Missouri prompts and Dean groans as he closes his eyes again. Nothing happens. 

“Dean, you beautiful little maggot,” Alistair says slowly, sauntering forward and past Missouri as if she weren’t even there—which, she supposes, to Alistair, she isn’t. He puts his hand on Dean’s arm and tugs Dean’s hand away from the hand print. Once Dean’s arm is hanging limply, Alistair pets Dean’s chest slowly. Dean’s eyes open again, widen in fear. “Dean, you’re my pet. Why are you trying to leave me? You’re my good boy.”

“I’m yours,” Dean whimpers. 

“Focus, Dean! Focus on Castiel,” Missouri commands and Dean’s eyes flicker to her without an ounce of recognition. Cas’ energy around them flickers out with Dean’s motivation. 

“Castiel,” Dean repeats, as though the name is alien on his tongue. 

“Now, Dean,” Alistair’s voice is sharp and his hand flashes to the back of Dean’s neck, squeezing until Dean buckles to his knees. “You know how I hate to hear other names out of that pretty mouth of yours.”

Missouri opens her eyes in the real world, knowing that all she can do for now is done. She pulls away from Dean with a hiss nonetheless and stands shakily. Gabriel has Cas propped up against the chair, Cas’ eyes wavering. Sam stares at Missouri with both hope and disappointment. 

“I had him,” Missouri sighs. “We were coming out, he was allowing Castiel to pull him free. But we were stopped.”

“By what?” Sam asks, a little too sharply.

“Alistair,” Missouri replies and Sam hisses in a breath. “He has some sort of hold on your brother. We were plowing through fine until he appeared…”

“What happened?” Sam demands. 

“He appeared,” Missouri reiterates. “He spoke to your brother, was…almost gentle with him. Called him his ‘pet’.”

A low growl escapes Cas from his place on the chair. 

“Heal him,” Missouri demands of Gabriel. 

“I did,” Gabriel frowns. “Whatever Dean took from Cas this time…it’s a little deeper than I can heal immediately. We may have to ask for a little help.”

“Bring your father in on it,” Missouri agrees. “Maybe.”

“Where is he right now?” Sam asks. 

“Making spaghetti,” Gabriel chuckles darkly. 

“Go get him,” Sam tells Gabriel and Gabriel raises his eyebrows. 

“Bossy,” Gabriel smirks. “I kinda like it.”

Without another word, he disappears. Moments later, both Gabriel and Chuck reappear. 

“So, you thought you knew better than God?” Chuck raises his eyebrows at Missouri, who puts her hands on her hips and cocks her eyebrow. 

“And I was right, wasn’t I?” Missouri challenges. “We need a more hands-on approach. This boy is wasting away inside his own mind facing every horror that he can think up and then some, and you want to start an argument with me about my approach?”

Chuck narrows his eyes but eventually deigns the argument not worth the trouble and shrugs. “My sauce is going to burn,” he states, disappearing for a moment, and then reappearing. “I turned the burner off. Now, what do you think we need to do, Missouri?”

“You need to heal your son as best you can,” Missouri replies without missing a beat. “He’s the biggest part of this play, after all. Other than Dean himself.”

“And Castiel, you’re…staying in your own mind?” Chuck asks. 

“Yes,” Cas grinds out. 

“Good,” Chuck nods, then touches Cas’ forehead. Cas straightens and flexes slightly when Chuck pulls away. 

“Dean’s drawing on your grace,” Chuck comments. “He’s feeding off your core energy. That’s why it’s taking such a toll on you.”

“It’s fine,” Cas retorts. 

“It is so long as I fix you,” Chuck agrees. “Otherwise…he’s killing you.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re here to fix him, huh, Dad?” Gabriel steps in, eyebrows raised and Chuck nods slowly. 

“Yes,” he agrees. “Indeed it is.”

“Shall we go again?” Cas stands and Missouri nods. 

“I should restore your energy as well, Missouri,” Chuck steps forward, brushing a hand across Missouri’s forearm. She allows it, and feels better for it. Projecting her consciousness into another’s was always taxing, but in this case, worth it. 

“Are we going to go again, so soon?” Sam asks. 

“I think the longer we leave him in there, the farther he sinks,” Missouri tells Sam. “Cas managed to pull him forward a little, but I’m afraid that if we leave him there for much longer, he’ll just fall back. Hopefully, he’s still with Alistair.”

“That’s a sentence I never want to hear again,” Sam replies, but nods. “I hate that I’m not doing anything.”

“You’ll do more than enough when he wakes up, sugar,” Missouri assures. “Now, let’s get this show on the road.”

Cas nods, leaning over Dean readily. 

“You can go ahead and touch the mark immediately, hon,” Missouri tells him. “There’s no need to wait this time.”

Cas nods and leans forward to touch the mark. Missouri kneels at the bedside again, touching Dean’s forehead and closing her eyes, forcing herself into his mind. She finds herself immediately in front of Dean, this time. He’s almost exactly where she left him, but this time, instead of kneeling, he’s lying on his back with Alistair straddling him. Dean is shirtless and Alistair scrapes his fingernails down Dean’s chest, leaving thin trails of blood. Missouri rushes to Dean, tries pushing Alistair off, but her hand goes right through. Dean blinks as he watches this, his brow furrowing, but he does not comment. Missouri instead kneels by Dean’s head and leans over, obscuring his view of Alistair. 

“Dean,” she murmurs, “I’m back.”

“Who…who are you?” he blinks his eyes a couple times roughly, scrunching his nose. “I…I know you…right?”

“Yes, Dean,” Missouri nods. “But I’m not important. Do you feel that energy? That energy that pulls on you?”

Dean stares at her for a long confused moment before nodding slowly. 

“I need you to focus on that, Dean,” Missouri insists. “I need you to focus on that tug. Focus, really hard.”

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” Alistair tsks above him. “You’re not paying attention, young student.”

Dean frowns, tries to look past Missouri, but she stays in his way. 

“Come on, Dean,” she urges. “Focus. Close your eyes and only think about the name Castiel.”

“Castiel,” Dean repeats slowly, his eyes slipping closed as he frowns. 

“Stop saying that name!” Alistair yells above them, but Dean steadfastly keeps his eyes closed. 

“You’re going to have to focus really hard, Dean,” Missouri coaches him. “Think of only the pull, of getting free.”

“Cas,” Dean murmurs again, and Missouri takes the use of the nickname as a good sign. 

The scene flickers around them, and Missouri finds herself sighing with relief when suddenly Dean is standing, eyes still stubbornly closed, instead of lying on the ground. Missouri stands, tries not to notice the inches of blood that covers her feet and sloshes against her legs. 

“Focus, Dean,” Missouri tells him again. “Touch the hand print if you think it will help.”

Dean’s hand flits to the mark and the scene changes instantly. Missouri finds them standing in a cemetery where Sam bashes his head against a tombstone that reads ‘Mary Winchester’. It takes all of Missouri’s willpower not to try and stop the faux younger Winchester from bashing his brain out. 

“Cas,” Dean breathes and the scene changes again. Missouri is encouraged to see that he doesn’t seem to have to focus as hard on moving on as he had their first time around. They now stand in a barn and a tall man with long hair stands staring at them. He has an old blade in his hand and looking at it gives Missouri chills. 

“You turned out just like me, Dean,” the man says and Missouri can see Dean pause. 

“Dean,” she encourages. “Castiel.”

“Oh, shut up, you old hag,” the man says and Missouri freezes when he addresses her. “You think you can pull him out of his own goddamn head? You understand how stupid that sounds, don’t you?”

His talking to her was not a good sign. Dean’s subconscious was becoming aware of her, aware of his fight. Not a good sign. 

“Cas,” Dean says again, all by himself and the scene changes just as the man takes a step towards Missouri.

“Dean, we’re close,” Missouri tells him and she can feel it’s true. The charge that runs through the air due to Cas and Dean’s bond is growing stronger, and the oppressive feelings of fear and sorrow are becoming less prevalent. They’re standing in a field, now, filled with shallow graves. A teddy bear rests on the fresh dirt of one of the graves. The scene flits away and another replaces it. A teenage boy sits on the floor of a motel room, sobbing. Missouri thinks its Sam, but she can’t be sure, for the boy’s head is nestled in his arms resting on his knees. The scene stays and Missouri looks to see Dean staring at the boy, a tear rolling down his cheek. 

“This…this was the first time Sam ran away,” Dean murmurs, more to himself than to Missouri. “I remember…I went out for a second and when I came back, he was gone. It was more painful, him leaving, than my dad’s punishment was when he came back.”

“He wasn’t running away from you, Dean,” Missouri tells him. “Your brother loves you.”

“He was running away from the life,” Dean nods and Missouri is surprised by the sudden clarity in his eyes, where before, with Alistair, there was only pain and fear. “But…he was also running away from me.”

“Dean, you need to focus,” Missouri reminds him gently. “Castiel, remember? Castiel is pulling you out, you’ll be able to see him and Sam.”

Dean sighs, runs a hand over his face. “Why?”

“Why what?” Missouri snaps, losing patience as she can feel Cas’ energy fading. 

“Why should I leave?” he asks. 

“What?” Missouri can’t help but glare a little. 

“I mean…it’s terrible in here,” Dean nods. “I get to relieve every horrible thing that I’ve done, imagine every horrible thing that I could do or that could’ve happened. It’s bad here…but is it better out there?”

“Yes,” Missouri manages to keep her tone level. “It is now. Thanks to you.”

“I’ll still be a hunter,” Dean shrugs, his shoulders slumping. “I’ll still have to watch the people I love die because of me.”

“That’s bullshit,” Missouri finally tells him, and Dean looks at her with a frown. “People die, Dean. It’s not because of you. It’s because that’s what happens. Not everything is your fault.”

“Clearly you haven’t met me,” Dean gives a joyless laugh. “Because otherwise you would now that death around me isn’t exactly natural.”

“Unnatural or not, Dean,” Missouri takes in a deep, calming breath. “You need to let go and come with me.”

“I don’t,” Dean shakes his head. “I can suffer in here or I can suffer out there. At least this way, I only hurt myself in the process.”

“Is this really you talking?” Missouri narrows her eyes at him. 

“Does it really matter?” Dean sighs, and as he does so, the energy from the bond fades and Missouri leaves Dean’s mind once more, opening her eyes to the real world. She spits out a long string of swears that makes everyone stare at her with surprise. 

“What?” she snaps. “I’m not some little old woman, I know my curses.”

“What happened?” Sam asks. 

“He’s…resisting,” Missouri finally says. 

“He is?” Sam frowns. 

“I think it’s a little of him and a whole lot of the other chaos going on in that head of his,” Missouri finally replies. “He…at first he wasn’t cognizant. But then…he saw…something, and he became more aware of where he was. He told me that he was suffering no matter where he went, so why leave his head in the first place.”  
Everyone is silent for a long moment before Sam lets out a shuddering breath. “You’re going back in, right?”

“Of course,” Missouri agrees. “I’m not going to let him off that easy.”

“So we’re just going to force Dean back to life?” Gabriel asks. 

“He doesn’t really want to stay,” Sam snaps. “He thinks…he thinks it’s bad out here, but he doesn’t realize that he has us. It wasn’t him talking…not fully, anyway.”

“Do we really know that?” Gabriel asks and Sam’s standing, towering over the archangel in an instant. 

“Yes,” Sam growls. “So you can either shut up or get out, got it?”

Gabriel narrows his eyes at him but eventually just nods, holding his hands up in surrender. 

“Chuck, fix Cas and Missouri,” Sam demands. “They have to go again.”

Chuck looks to Cas questioningly, and Cas nods. Chuck grazes a finger across Cas and Missouri’s forehead and they’re both back to normal almost immediately. 

“Third time’s the charm,” Sam says as he sits back down. 

“This time give me a minute or two,” Missouri tells Cas. “I may need to talk him into giving it another try, and I don’t want you to have to waste your power.”

Cas nods and Missouri’s back into Dean’s head in the blink of an eye. The scene has changed. They stand in the rain, Dean’s back to Missouri, watching a teenage Sam stomp to a cab. 

“You don’t have to stay with him, Dean,” Sam yells at him through the rain. Dean doesn’t respond, but memory-Sam speaks as though he has. “That’s just an excuse. You’re just afraid to do something different. You’re paralyzed. And I feel sorry for you. You may hate me for moving on with my life, doing something real like going to college. But I just…I just pity you.”

Without another word, he gets into the cab and drives off. Dean stays standing in the rain. “He called me a week later,” Dean tells Missouri without turning. “Apologized and told me to come visit him. He said that he missed me…I told him I’d stop by after I’d finished a hunt.”

“Did you ever visit him?” Missouri asks. 

“No,” Dean replies. “Not until Dad went missing. I just…I never hated him for leaving. I don’t think I ever told him that. Sure, it hurt because for a while I thought he just wanted to get away from me. But I was proud of him, proud he got into Stanford. I wouldn’t have even gone to get him when Dad went missing if I weren’t so damn…lonely. I missed my brother.”

“You practically raised the kid,” Missouri points out. “It makes sense that you wanted to reconnect.”

“I pulled him into danger again,” Dean looks at his feet, shakes his head. “That’s not what a good parent would do.”

“That’s what your dad did,” Missouri says. 

“My dad was a lot of things, but a good parent wasn’t one of them,” Dean chuckles darkly. “Just think of where Sam would be had I left him alone, let him become a nice little lawyer with a nice little wife.”

“You know that’s not how it would have ended up,” Missouri shakes her head. “That demon that killed your mama marked Sam no matter how he ended up. Torturing yourself with what-ifs isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

“Oh?” Dean chuckles again. “And where do I need to go, if not anywhere?”

“Home,” Missouri replies. “The real world. You can’t just hide out and torture yourself.”

“I don’t know why you’re so against that option,” Dean scoffs. “I’m only hurting myself.”

“That’s a damn lie,” Missouri snaps. “You know that you’re not only hurting yourself by choosing to waste away into nothing. You’re hurting Sam too. Do you think it will be easy for him to watch you kill yourself from the inside out? Being able to do nothing but sit there and watch? Or that angel that loves you, Castiel. Do you think it will be easy for Castiel to simply watch as you waste away in a mental cell of your own making?”

Dean sighs. “I’m just…so tired, Missouri.”

“Tough,” Missouri tells him. “You’re a Winchester. And that means you got to keep on fighting. You can’t give up. And even though you shouldn’t give up for Sam and Castiel’s sake, you also shouldn’t give up for your own goddamn sake.”

“That’s quite the pep talk, Missouri,” Dean tells her, finally turning. 

“What can I say? I’d make one hell of a football coach in another life,” Missouri shrugs. “Now, are you going to try to get yourself out of here?”

Dean studies her for a long moment. “You’re not going to leave me alone if I choose otherwise, right?”

“Exactly,” Missouri agrees. 

“I guess that’s that, then,” Dean sighs. As if on cue, Cas makes contact with the hand print, channels the bond, and the atmosphere charges. 

“Feel that? That’s your angel trying to drag you out of yourself,” Missouri tells him. “Now, do the right thing and let yourself be saved.”

Dean sighs, but closes his eyes slowly, lets his hand drift up to the mark. It only takes one good pull this time, and Missouri is toppling back into herself and Dean’s eyes pop open.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean bolts upright, eyes wild for a moment as everyone stares at him. Slowly, he leans forward until he’s resting his face in his hands, elbows balanced on his knees. He lets out a shuddering breath and can feel everyone’s eyes on him. He hears Sam stand, lean over. The moment his outstretched hand grazes Dean’s shoulder, Dean violently flinches away. 

“Don’t touch me,” he grates out, his hands moving from his face to claw into his hairline, kneading slightly. Sam steps away, and Cas stands back as well. Dean’s head is still a battlefield of screams and flashes of pain. He vaguely remembers Missouri and him talking, but about what, he cannot remember. He feels like he’s going to puke, and as soon as he thinks it, he’s flying across the room to empty his already barren stomach into the small tin trashcan. He heaves a few times after dispelling a little liquid, but finds he feels slightly better afterwards. He looks up when someone squats down next to him and recognizes the concerned blue eyes. 

“Hey, Cas,” he manages to grind out, and Cas frowns at him slightly as he replies. 

“Hello, Dean.”

He glances back at Sam, who hovers behind Cas a couple feet. 

“Sammy,” Dean tries a smile, but he thinks it falls into a grimace. “You look worried, fellas.”

Sam’s smile is slow and small at Dean’s repetition of his greeting from the last time Sam and Cas pulled him from the darkness of himself, when they cured him with purified blood, melted the demon from his veins. Somehow, this felt similar, though he knew the many differences. 

“How you feeling, Dean?” Sam’s voice is cautious, and Dean feels bad for snapping at him moments earlier. 

“I’m feeling…” Dean wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, then pushes himself into a sitting position against the wall. He closes his eyes, tries to figure out what he’s feeling, but closing his eyes only allows him to watch the horrors over again, so he opens them again, stares down at his hands for a long time before remembering Sam’s question. “…fine.”

“That’s bullshit,” Sam scoffs, and Dean manages a snort. 

“Just saved the goddamn world and you’re not even going to allow me a little white lie,” Dean mutters, carding a hand through his hair. 

“That’s not a little white lie,” Missouri says from behind Sam and Dean looks up at her cautiously, squinting. 

“You…you were in my head,” he says slowly and she nods. 

“So you don’t remember?” Missouri raises her eyebrows.

“No,” Dean shakes his head. “Only…that we were talking…it…it was raining?”

“You were remembering the day Sam left for Stanford,” Missouri recounts and Dean only sees Sam stiffen out the corner of his eyes as the memory flashes in front of his open eyes in a flash of painful light. He folds in on himself, squeezing his hands against his eyes as he cries out at the sudden pain the memory brings. He remembers relieving the day, talking with Missouri in the rain, how utterly worthless he felt. And just as quickly as it came, the vision disappears and he’s left sitting there, panting. 

“Wow,” he breathes out. “Dark stuff…Let’s not talk about it.”

“I think that’s the opposite of what needs to happen,” Missouri frowns at him deeply. 

“Dean…” Sam begins and Dean shakes his head. 

“I need a drink,” he tries to stand but falls forward immediately. He glances down at his legs like they’ve betrayed him and Cas is under his arm in an instant, pulling him up and putting him on the bed. 

“You still need rest, Dean,” Cas tells him and Dean lets out a frustrated breath. 

“I’ve been resting, Cas,” he argues. “I’ve been asleep for what? Weeks? Longer?”

“Three days,” Cas provides and Dean frowns at him. 

“Wow, really?” Dean is astonished. “That’s it? It seems like so much longer in my head.”

“That isn’t surprising,” Chuck offers from his position hovering near the door.

Dean stares at God for a long moment before sighing. “Can I have a word with you? Alone?”

Everyone stares at Dean for a long moment, but Chuck nods immediately. Chuck walks to the bed and sits with Dean as the rest of the group files out. Dean is a little uncomfortable sitting next to God, but doesn’t argue. It’s silent for a long moment as Dean tries to think of where to begin. 

“You’re angry,” Chuck finally sighs. “I understand. I would apologize for torturing you, but I know that’s not even remotely what you’re angry about.”

“You said…you ignored me and Sam because you thought we were destined to die,” Dean manages eventually. “Fine, I get that. Sam and I…we’re just two people. But…you ignored so many other people too. You ignored us. There were wars…an-and plagues. People d-died for you, people killed for you. And you just…what? Watched your children die?”

“I was involved with humanity for centuries,” Chuck sighs. “Centuries, Dean. But you just kept making mistakes…and I realized that I needed to take a step back, let you find your own way. I didn’t want to be a helicopter parent, Dean. Humanity needed to learn how to exist by itself.”

Dean rubs a hand over his palm. “Alright, ignoring humanity I can understand, I guess. But…what about the angels? How could you let Heaven…how could you let Heaven go to shit like that? How could you let your angels fight and kill each other like that?”

Chuck sighs. “Why are you asking about the angels, Dean? I don’t even like angels. Why don’t you just ask about Castiel. He’s the only one you care about.”

“And he cares about the rest,” Dean snaps. “He cares about his family probably more than any of the rest of the angels.”

“Many believe that to be his downfall,” Chuck points out. “That he cares too much, that he has too much heart.”

“That’s not a downfall,” Dean shakes his head. “That just what makes him less of a dick.”

“You too have more in common than you even realize,” Chuck chuckles. 

“He’s nothing like me,” Dean snaps again and Chuck looks at him for a long moment, finally sighing and staring at his hands. 

“Dean,” Chuck says softly. “If I have made one mistake in all of creation…it’s not leaving humanity or the angels. It’s not creating free will. It was not instilling just a tiny extra shred of self worth in you, Dean. You joke about just saving the world, but I can see into your head, can feel what you feel. And it breaks my heart that you don’t actually feel like my torturing you made a difference, even in regards to the unnecessary idea of penance. We stopped Amara because of you, Dean. The world was saved _again_ because of you, Dean. Even as I, God, Lord, Creator, tell you that you’re the most important person in the world, you don’t believe it.”

Dean stares at the wall, shrugs. 

“You’re in so much pain,” Chuck sighs again. “And even as you’re in pain, you’re still worrying about your brother and your angel. That, Dean Winchester, is the marking of a good man.”

“This isn’t why I asked to talk with you,” Dean reminds him and Chuck nods. 

“You want a wall,” Chuck says for him. “Like the wall that Death put up for Sam. So you can ignore everything you saw. But I won’t do it. I will stay here for your entire recovery so I can ensure you’re okay, but a wall is not the way you need to deal with this.”

“I’m asking you for one thing,” Dean glares at his hands. “I’m asking you for just this one thing.”

“And I’m saying no,” Chuck replies, standing. He touches Dean’s head gently, briefly. “I just restored your strength so you don’t fall the next time you try to stand, and I will heal you as much as I can. But I am not going to enable you to ignore the problem. Deal with this, Dean. And ask me for anything else.”

Chuck starts walking to the door and when his hand touches the knob, Dean speaks. 

“Talk to Cas,” Dean says. “Give him some closure. Tell him why you ignored him.”

Chuck pauses, smiles to himself. “See? The markings of a good man.”

He leaves and finds the other four Bunker inhabitants sitting in the library.

“What…what did…?” the question is clear in Sam’s eyes, but Chuck goes to Cas first. 

“He wants me to reconcile my absence to you,” Chuck says. “He wants me to apologize for not stepping forward when you searched for me, wants me to apologize for helping you so little.”  
Cas shakes his head. “I don’t care about that right now.”

“I know,” Chuck chuckles darkly. “But I need you to know, despite bringing you back from the dead multiple times, I also gave you the greatest gift that I could ever give. I gave you one thing that I knew would keep you safe, keep you whole. I gave you the one thing that I knew would keep you good. I gave you Dean Winchester, Castiel.”

Cas looks up at Chuck with an odd look in his eyes. “Dean is not just a present you gave me.”

“No,” Chuck agrees. “But he is one of the few men left on Earth who could possibly be worthy of your love. Both he and his brother are the reason I have not lost my faith in humanity, my faith in free will.”

Cas narrows his eyes at Chuck, but says nothing. After a slightly too long silence, Sam clears his throat. 

“Uh…Thanks, G – Chuck,” Sam starts. “But…if you don’t mind my asking…what are we going to do with Dean?”

“Are we doing something with me?” Dean growls as he walks slowly into the library.

“Dean!” Sam cries out, standing and rushing to his brother. 

“Oh, okay,” Dean backs up a little at Sam’s fast approach which makes Sam freeze. “Take it easy, Sammy. I…uh…everything is a little…uh…much right now.”

“Yeah, no problem, sorry,” Sam nods with zeal. “I’ll…we’ll take it slow.”

Dean scrunches up his nose. “Don’t make this sound like an awkward first date, Sam.”

He shuffles to the chair and slumps into it, leaning into his knees a little and looking at Chuck with a deep frown. 

“You just juiced me up, Chuck,” Dean groans. “Why did just walking to the fucking library exhaust me?”

Chuck leans over, touches Dean’s forehead again, and Dean feels back to normal. “You misunderstand how heavily your body is affected by a tired mind, Dean,” Chuck tells him. “You need to take it slow.”

“I walked to the library,” Dean repeats through gritted teeth. “If I need to go slower than that…I don’t…I can’t…” Dean lets out a long breath as he drops that line of conversation. He looks to Missouri. “Why were you in my head?”

“Don’t use that tone with me, boy,” Missouri snaps immediately. “I saved your butt.”

Dean stares at her, resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Thank you, Missouri, but do you maybe want to explain how you saved my butt?”

“You needed a push from the inside,” Missouri tells him. “Cas was pulling you from the outside, but you needed an extra hand.”

“Cas…Cas was pulling me?” Dean looks to Cas, who nods. 

“Our bond,” Cas supplies. “I put my hand on my handprint and I just…called to you.”

“Kinky,” Gabriel mutters from his post at the other table where he is uncharacteristically quiet. Dean flashes him a curious and somewhat annoyed look, but decides not to immediately comment. 

“So…Cas pulled me, you pushed me?” Dean asks, turning back to Missouri, but pushing his leg out slightly so his foot just brushed Cas’. “How’d you push?”

“I helped you focus,” Missouri says cautiously. “Talked you into…accepting help.”

As Dean watches Missouri’s knowing eyes, he sees flashes of trees, of blood, of screaming and he shuts his eyes again. He crumples slightly and digs his fingers into his temples, trying to blot out the images. After a moment, they dissipate and he’s left with four pairs of concerned eyes staring at him. He pants slightly, leans back in his chair, cards a hand through his hair. “I really could use a drink,” he announces, standing and walking to drink cart that is thankfully stalked with all of his favorite whiskeys. He downs two glasses before pouring at third and returning a little tiredly to his seat. He looks at Missouri, who raises her eyebrows like she’s unimpressed with his coping mechanisms. Dean doesn’t care. “You were saying,” he prompts. “What…what did you see?”

Missouri looks around their group, then raises her eyebrows. “You want all of them to know what I saw inside your head? You think that’s a good idea?”

“Me and Dad already know,” Gabriel pipes up and meets Dean’s eyes. “It’s none too pretty. I don’t think it’s something little brother and love interest really want to imagine.”

Dean glares at Gabriel but eventually nods. 

“Dean…if talking about it will help you, though,” Sam immediately presses and Dean stares at his empty glass, shaking his head slowly. “Dean, we already know a little bit,” Sam presses a little further. “Like…Missouri mentioned Alistair.”

With the sound of his name, Dean is dragged back into another vision, but this time, it’s accompanied with severe panic. He remembers Alistair’s icy fingers trailing down his bare chest, grazing over his flesh with a fondness that screamed of ownership. Even after the flashes of the vision disappear as quickly as they appeared, panic grips Dean’s chest, and he can’t breathe for a few long moments. It takes him a minute to realize that panicked sobs are clogging his throat, but once he notes that, he can manage to force himself to breathe around the lump in his throat. He doesn’t know how long it takes for him to calm down. He can hear voices all around him, and he flinches away from most of the hands that reach for him. He feels a difference among one touch, knows that it’s Cas’ hand. He leans into it and before he knows what’s happening, two strong arms wrap around him, and Dean doesn’t even care that he’s being coddled like a child. It takes too long for the fear that saturates him, the internal mantra of the demon’s name and the terror it brings to fade to a manageable ache so Dean can focus on the deep voice in his ear. 

“You’re not in Hell, Dean,” Cas tells him. “I rescued you from Hell, remember? Just like I’m going to save you from this.”

“I’m not a damsel in distress, Cas,” Dean manages after another few long moments and he can hear a relieved breath of a laugh from his angel. 

“Just accept the help, you idiot,” Cas replies, tugging him closer and Dean doesn’t dare open his eyes yet, keeps telling himself that the demon can’t hurt him anymore. He knows that’s a lie. 

Finally, he opens his eyes and finds that he and Cas are alone in his room on his bed. 

“How did we get here?” he asks. 

“My father transported us here when your flashback lasted longer than those before it,” Cas replies. 

“That’s embarrassing,” Dean grimaces. 

“This is not embarrassing, Dean,” Cas tells him. “No one in this Bunker views you as any lesser of a person or warrior because you’re suffering.”

“God,” Dean rolls his eyes. “Come on, we need to reposition. My leg’s falling asleep.”

Dean is surprised when Cas doesn’t immediately comply. He twists a little and looks at Cas’ reluctant face. 

“What?” Dean asks. 

“I…I don’t want to let go of you,” Cas tells him and Dean’s heart swells even as he’s rolling his eyes. 

“Cas, you don’t have to let go of me, we just need to lay down,” Dean tells him and Cas nods. They both lay and Cas pulls Dean to his chest, their legs tangling messily. 

“There, happy?” Dean asks with a small chuckle. 

“They wouldn’t let me touch you,” Cas tells him lowly. “Not until today. The first two days, they wouldn’t let me touch you at all.”

“What?” Dean exclaims, angry for the pain in Cas’ tone. “Why?”

“Because what you were seeing, in your head, it was so strong,” Cas tells him. “They didn’t think I’d be able to block out the images, block out what you were experiencing inside your mind if I were to touch you.”

Dean doesn’t quite remember everything he experienced in his own head, but he knows that thinking of Cas experiencing it makes him shudder. “I don’t hate that decision,” Dean replies. “Cas…I don’t know exactly what was happening in my melon, but I know that I don’t want you to…to ever have t-to see what I saw.”

“I want to understand your pain,” Cas tells him. 

“I don’t want you to,” Dean retorts. “I really, really don’t.”

“I know,” Cas eventually sighs. “Which is why I abided by my father’s demands to keep my distance. Even though it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.”

“Harder than dragging my damned ass from Hell?” Dean asks. 

“Easily,” Cas replies. “Now…are you tired? Perhaps you should sleep.”

Dean is silent for a long moment before taking in a shuddering, hesitant breath. “I don’t want to sleep,” Dean admits slowly. “What if…what if I just go back…to wherever I was before?”

Cas is silent for a long moment too. “I do not believe my father thinks that will happen. I think now that you’ve come out the other side of this, you’re in the clear. And even if it does, even if you slip back into that dark place…I’ll be here to pull you back to me.”

Dean is embarrassed to find a lump in his throat again and instead of replying, he pulls his head from the crook in between Cas’ shoulder and neck to press a kiss to Cas’ mouth. When he pulls back, he can still feel the chaos in his head and still doesn’t quite want to sleep…but in Cas’ arms, he doesn’t feel insane, doesn’t feel like he’s going to wake up again and find that this brief glimpse of peace is the dream, and the torture he came from is reality. In Cas’ arms, he feels…safe.


	10. Chapter 10

Dean doesn’t fall asleep for hours, just lies with Cas in silence. When he finally slips into a light doze, he wakes up screaming within moments. Cas grips him tightly to himself and Dean sags against him, choking back sobs and shivering. Pounding at the door makes him jump and he drags a palm down his face, groaning. 

“Dean!” Sam hollers from the other side of the door. 

“It was just a nightmare,” Dean calls back. “Go back to sleep, Sam!”

Sam pauses outside the door for a moment before replying, “Are…are you alright? Can I come in?”

“If you really have to,” Dean replies, pulling from Cas’ embrace to sit up to the disgruntled sound of the angel. Sam enters somewhat hesitantly and looks at Dean with his big concerned puppy dog eyes that make Dean want to hug him and throw a book at his head. 

“Are you okay?” Sam asks again and Dean groans. 

“I’m fine, Sam,” Dean tells them. “It was nothing. You need to get some sleep, Sam. You look like crap.”

“Really?” Sam scoffs. “You’re one to talk! You look like Hell warmed over, Dean.”

“Thanks,” Dean rolls his eyes. “I’ll be fine, little brother.”

“And he has me,” Cas adds. 

Sam smiles at Cas and nods. “Now that actually makes me feel a little better.”

“I don’t need to be babysat,” Dean gripes and Sam rolls his eyes. 

“No, you don’t,” Sam tells him. “But you need someone to be here for you. And you refuse to let down your guard with me, have to act like the forever tough older brother—“ Dean opens his mouth to object but Sam continues without pause, “—so it’s nice that Cas is here for you, Dean. Not to watch over you, he’s here for you.”

He walks over to pat Dean on the shoulder and Dean pouts slightly. “I’m not acting like your forever tough older brother,” Dean tells him. “I am your forever tough older brother.”

“I know,” Sam chuckles a little. “Whatever you say, Dean.”

With that, he walks out and leaves Cas and Dean alone. The door closes behind him with a soft click and Dean sits pouting for a long moment before Cas rolls his eyes and pulls Dean down next to him, wrapping his arms around Dean affectionately. Dean is grateful and allows himself to relax into Cas’ hold. 

“I am here for you,” Cas informs Dean, murmuring into his hair. “I will always be here for you.”

“I know, Cas,” Dean nods, snaking his arms around Cas’ waist. “I know.”

Dean doesn’t sleep again that night, just instead traces his hands along Cas’ arms and chest and neck. Cas studies him intently the entire time, but Dean, for once, finds he doesn’t mind. That first day goes fine. However, as the next day progresses, Cas notices Dean has begun to change slightly. Where one moment he’ll be lucid and active, the next he’ll stare into space for minutes on end desperately gripping whatever he’s nearest to as if grasping for purchase. Or he’ll be sitting silently in the library with the rest of the group, and slowly fold in on himself, scrunching his eyes shut and holding his head in his hands. He’ll be completely silent while doing so and eventually pull himself up again, just to stare at his hands for long moments and finally leave the room to be alone. Sam and Cas both try talking to him about it, but he’s as resistant to talking as ever—actually, probably even more so than usual. Missouri starts creating sleeping droughts for Dean to take, thinking his exhaustion isn’t helping him recover. It takes the entire group almost a week to notice that the droughts are only making things worse. Once Dean starts staring around himself without his usual look of fear or sorrow and instead a look of uncertainty, Missouri stops giving them to him. 

“I thought I would be able to create a sleeping drought that would allow him a dreamless sleep,” Missouri tells Sam when he asks her why she’s revoking Dean’s medicine. “But I can see now that we’re just trapping him in his nightmares. The psychological scarring goes too deep for a simple potion to fix, Sam. If we keep giving him the sleeping droughts…I’m afraid we’re going to lose him even more.”

“But without them, he wakes up screaming five times a night,” Sam argues. 

“Yes, but that’s his minds way of allowing him escape,” Missouri tells Sam. Sam eventually agrees that she’s right. However, taking the sleeping droughts from Dean doesn’t help. He begins to wake up in the middle of the night again, but each time, he becomes more and more disconcerted. Cas is with him every night, soothes him when he wakes, and he truly begins to worry when Dean starts sobbing about how this is worse torture. 

One night, Cas is so panicked at Dean’s state that he gets Missouri up, the only other person who can seem to force Dean into talking. Missouri wakes without complaint, follows Cas silently as he leads her to Dean’s room. Dean sits with his back against the headboard, his hands obscuring his face as he quietly mutters to himself. 

“Dean,” Missouri approaches cautiously, and Cas stands nervously just inside of the door. He doesn’t want to crowd Dean, knows one person in his close quarters is enough. “Dean, what’s the matter, sugar?”

Dean doesn’t pull away from himself, doesn’t acknowledge Missouri’s presence at all. As Missouri gets closer, she begins to hear what Dean’s muttering. 

“…not real…this isn’t real…it’s not real…”

“Dean, the dreams, they’re not real,” Missouri tells him, sitting by him on the bed and touching his leg. When she does so, Dean freezes, dropping his hands to stare at her with a look of reproach and uncertainty. 

“It’s…it’s blending together,” Dean whispers, his voice cracking. “Is…I can’t tell…is this real? Or is this just worse torture?”

“What do you mean, Dean?” Missouri tries to sound calm, but she glances back at Cas a little worriedly. 

“I…I go to sleep…and I’m being tortured…” Dean scrubs a palm across his eyes. “And then I wake up and I think it’s all okay, I’m free…but then I’m dragged back…not even j-just at night anymore. I’m d-dragged back randomly…and…is that real? Or is this real?”

“Dean,” Missouri shakes her hand on Dean’s knee. “This is real. You feel that? This.”

“I keep thinking about when Sammy…when Sammy had Lucifer in his head…and how he could feel pain, that the cut on his hand helped center him or whatever,” Dean tells Missouri, who nods enthusiastically. 

“Exactly,” she agrees. “Focus on something like that. Pinch yourself, or something.”

“I feel…exactly the same in both places,” Dean whispers, his head dropping to his hands again and Missouri is not only completely unsure how to comfort this broken warrior, but she’s also utterly terrified. 

“Dean, hon,” she sighs after a long moment. “I think you need to go back to sleep, for now. Or just lay with Cas here. But we’re going to figure this out in the morning, I promise. We’re going to get you better.”

She stands and at the doorway she shakes her head at Cas’ searching eyes. “We’re going to have to figure it out in the morning, dear,” Missouri tells him. “I…I don’t know how we can convince him of what’s real. But we’ll figure it out. Things get worse before they get better, sweetie.”

“I thought worse was him being tortured in the first place,” Cas grumbles and Missouri pats his shoulder before she leaves the room. Cas goes back to Dean, sits on the bed and rubs his hands up and down Dean’s arms, trying to coax him into his own arms. Eventually, Dean relents and allows Cas to pull him into a lying position. 

“I’m real, Dean,” Cas tells him. 

“Are you?” Dean replies hesitantly and Cas purses his lips. He rearranges them slightly and puts his hand atop his handprint on Dean’s arm. There’s a warm buzz between the fabric and skin and Dean seems somewhat shocked by it. 

“Yes,” Cas confirms. “I’m real.”

Dean still doesn’t look completely convinced but he nods. “Okay,” he agrees. They lay in silence until the morning comes and they can both hear the others moving around. Before too long, the smell of coffee reaches Dean’s room. 

“Do you want me to go grab you some?” Cas offers. 

Dean turns his back to Cas, shakes his head into the pillow. “Why…why don’t you go out and I’ll come in a little while?”

Cas frowns, doesn’t want to leave Dean, but doesn’t want to crowd him either. The healing process is so delicate, Cas tries to tiptoe the line. He eventually nods, says, “Alright. I’ll see you soon.”

He goes to the kitchen where Chuck, Gabriel, and Missouri sit at the table. Chuck and Missouri are talking quietly and intensely while Gabriel does the crossword puzzle. Even though Gabriel doesn’t do much in the healing department lately, leaving most of it to Chuck, Cas is oddly glad he’s still here. When Cas isn’t at Dean’s side, he’s usually with Sam or Gabriel—sometimes both. Gabriel acts as a sort of buffer, a way to de-stress so that Cas can be with Dean without breaking, without trying to reach into Dean’s head and understand Dean’s pain. Gabriel does the same for Sam as well, Cas knows, to a certain extent. If Sam wasn’t so hyper focused on Dean, Cas isn’t entirely sure whether Gabriel and Sam wouldn’t have gotten together by now. Gabriel’s sarcasm and love of joking keeps the heavy feelings at bay in the Bunker, and Cas is grateful for that. 

“Heya, Cassie,” Gabriel greets as Cas takes a seat beside him. “Where’s your boyf?”

“He…wanted to stay in bed a while longer,” Cas frowns at Missouri who offers him a consoling smile. 

“I was just discussing with Chuck here what we should do,” Missouri tells Cas. 

“Yeah, now that Dean-o is pulling a full Vanilla Sky,” Gabriel adds, “we really gotta force him back to sanity.”

“I-I don’t think I’d go with Vanilla Sky,” Chuck shakes his head. “That was a coma.”

“Okay, true,” Gabriel shrugs. “This is much more Twilight Zone than any Cruise flick.”

“Really?” Missouri admonishes them both. “Stop comparing Dean to films.”

“Dean would actually probably appreciate it,” Gabriel tells her. “You know…if he were in his right mind.”

Cas lets out an angry noise and Gabriel holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay, my bad. That was in poor taste, I’m sorry.”

Sam walks into the kitchen and looks around, searching, as everyone knows, immediately for Dean. Before he can ask the inevitable question, Missouri gives a small gasp. 

“What?” Cas inquires, instantly alert. 

“I’m…I’m getting a bad feeling,” Missouri squints, trying to place the feeling as a premonition or not. 

“A bad feeling?” Gabriel raises his eyebrows. “That’s vague and ominous.”

“Well, I am a psychic,” Missouri tells him. “Bad feelings are often a little more meaningf—“ she gasps again, this time deeply and pained, her hand flitting to her cover her heart. “No,” she whimpers. 

“Dean,” Sam murmurs, the first one to put it together. He’s out of the kitchen before Missouri can say a word, tearing through the hallway to Dean’s bedroom. He tries the door but it’s locked and before he can even process knocking, he slams his shoulder against it so hard that if he were thinking of anything but getting to his brother, he may have registered the pain. The door splinters open on the first try and Sam’s inside and staring around. Sam registers the strange earthy, metallic scent that tinges the air before his eyes land on his brother, sitting on the floor propped up on the wall next to his bed. Sam flies to his brother, kneeling down next to him in a puddle of blood. 

“Dean,” he only manages a whisper at first as he takes in the knife just inches from the tips of Dean’s fingers, the two long vertical slashes from Dean’s wrists to nearly his elbows on both arms. His head lolls to the side, his eyes only half open. “Dean!” Sam manages a yell next, then screams, “CAS! CHUCK!” His hands flit over Dean’s wounds, he stares uncomprehendingly as the blood spreads into an ever widening pool around him and his brother. He’s watched his brother die before and every time it hurts like his heart his being ripped to shreds, but this time is so, so much worse. 

“Sammy…” Dean mutters under his brother, trying to lift his arm, but not being able to. 

“Dean…why…Why would you…” Sam’s choking back sobs. 

“Is…is this real?” Dean manages to murmur as his eyes slip closed. 

“Dean,” Sam breathes, shakes Dean’s shoulders. “ _DEAN_!”


	11. Chapter 11

Cas enters moments before everyone else, races to Sam’s side. Cas manhandles Sam away as Chuck kneels down next to Dean and puts his palm on Dean’s forehead. Sam watches desperately as the clean slices slowly close, leaving a dark pink scar. 

“Why are you leaving that?” Cas demands angrily but Chuck ignores him as he focuses on the blood, making it disappear without the slightest traces. Dean’s eyes do not open and Sam’s heart pounds. Chuck lifts Dean easily, puts him on the bed, and turns back to Cas and Sam with a dark look in his eyes. 

“Is…is he…?” Sam’s voice breaks, he can’t finish the thought. 

“He’s alive,” Chuck confirms and watches as both Sam and Cas relax slightly in relief. “He’s probably going to sleep for a little while.”

“How could he…” Sam still can’t find the words. 

“He seems to be having trouble differentiating reality,” Chuck provides. Sam resists the urge to scoff, say something juvenile and inappropriate like, 'no duh'. “More trouble than we thought.”

“What do we do?” Cas asks lowly. 

“Well, maybe this will serve as a way to draw the line between reality and dream,” Chuck shrugs. 

“When I came in, he asked me if what he did was real,” Sam tells Chuck. 

“If attempting to kill himself doesn’t clarify reality,” Chuck sighs deeply, “he may not be able to.”

“Right now,” Sam adds. “He may not be able to…right now, right?”

“Right now,” Chuck agrees. “Or…ever.”

“No,” Sam spits. “He’s going to get better. You’re not giving him enough credit.”

Chuck studies Sam for a long moment before nodding slightly. “Okay, Sam,” he agrees noncommittally. 

A whole day passes while Dean sleeps. Sam is terrified that Dean slipped back into his comatose state and they would have to retrieve him again, but Missouri assures him that this is real sleep, the first Dean has had since Chuck tortured him. Sam and Cas are both in the room with Dean when he wakes, and it’s the first time since this all started that they see him wake naturally, without screaming or thrashing. One minute they’re staring at his sleeping face, the next, green eyes stare back at them. 

“Dean!” Sam exclaims and Dean stares at him for a long moment before he drags his hand across his face. 

“Heya, Sammy,” Dean grinds out. He sits up slowly and looks at Cas. “Hi, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean,” Cas nods, his smile cautious. 

“How do you feel?” Sam asks. 

Dean takes a moment to reply, assessing. “Rested,” Dean shrugs. “Actually…better than I’ve felt in a while.”

“That’s good,” Sam says quietly. “So…uh, what…what do you remember?”

“Remember?” Dean raises his eyebrows then squints. He’s slow to turn his wrists over in his lap and then stares at the pink strips on both arms. His face stays surprisingly stoic as he stares. Only his voice gives him away when he eventually manages to grind out, “So…guess that wasn’t a dream, then,” thickly. 

“No,” Cas confirms.

Dean raises his hands to his face and covers it for a while, willing his breath to cooperate. 

“I’m sorry,” he says after a while. 

“Dean, you don’t have to be sorry,” Sam tells him, his voice thick too. “I’m…I’m sorry. I…you were in so much pain…we’re not…we’re not doing enough to help you.”

“If I hadn’t left,” Cas adds, “this wouldn’t have happened.”

Dean takes his hands from his face and slowly looks at his brother and Cas. “This…this crap, it’s not either of your faults, do you understand? You’re doing everything you can to help me, and I’m grateful, okay? I…I thought…I thought I was in a dream,” Dean rubs his forehead. “The…the flashbacks to being stuck in my head…or maybe to Chuck messing with my soul…I don’t even know anymore…whatever, they’re so lifelike, so fucking vivid. I couldn’t tell the difference...”

“But you can now?” Cas asks. 

“At this moment, yeah,” Dean nods, frowning. “I…I don’t know what’s different. Maybe it was sleep deprivation all along. Or, more likely, sleep deprivation on top of being fucking crazy.”

“You’re not crazy,” Sam snaps. “It’s called PTSD, Dean.”

“I’ve already have PTSD, Sam,” Dean shakes his head. “Usually, it doesn’t involve mistaking dream and reality. That’s insanity.”

“You’re not crazy,” Sam tells him with even more fervor. 

“Okay, Sam,” Dean manages to roll his eyes. “Anyway…Right now, it’s...loud in my head, sure. But I know where I am, I know this is real. I guess we’ll just have to give me ten minutes, see if I start tipping into the deep end again.”

Sam lets out a frustrated sound at Dean’s analogy that Dean ignores. 

“Sam…will you give me and Dean a moment?” Cas asks after a moment. 

“No,” Sam replies immediately, which makes both Cas and Dean raise their eyebrows in surprise. Sam explains after a moment. “You can crawl into bed with Dean and cuddle all you want. Hell, make out if you really need to. But I’m not leaving Dean…not for a little while, at least.”

“Sam…” Dean groans. 

“Do you know what it feels like to walk in on the one person who means more to you than anything in the world in a pool of his own blood?” Sam asks Dean, bottom lip quivering slightly. 

“No,” Dean admits after a long moment. “And thank God for that. I’m sorry, Sammy.”

“I just…I need a little while with you, okay?” Sam furthers, voice thick. “I need to know…I just need to know that if I leave the room, I won’t have to come back to another pool of blood, okay?”

“I’m not going to do that again,” Dean shakes his head. “Never again, Sammy. I promise.”

A tear slips down Sam’s cheek and he stands, practically throwing himself into Dean’s waiting arms. They embrace for a long moment and when they pull away, Sam sees that Dean’s eyes are misty. 

“God,” he gripes, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Damn it, Sam! No chick flick moments, remember?”

“Shut up,” Sam chuckles. 

Dean turns to Cas and sighs. “Do you want a chick flick moment, dear?”

Cas raises his eyebrows. “I would hate to insult your masculinity in such a way,” he replies, and Dean laughs. 

“God, just get over here,” Dean demands and Cas goes to him. They hug for a long moment as well, and when they finally pull apart, a quick kiss at the end, all three end up on the bed. 

“Sammy, go grab your laptop,” Dean tells him. “We should watch a movie. We haven’t done something normal like watch a movie in too long.”

Sam hesitates, looking at Dean fretfully. 

“Go on, you’ll be gone for a minute, tops,” Dean tells him. “I’ll be right here, just like this when you get back, I promise.”

Sam nods, disappearing into the hallway to his room. 

“So…” Dean begins. “How…how are you?”

“I’m happy that you’re awake and feeling better,” Cas tells him. “Honestly…we weren’t sure what to expect. Chuck was not being very optimistic either.”

“Wow,” Dean grimaces. “You know it’s a bad deal when God doesn’t think it’ll work out.”

“My father is wrong,” Cas replies matter-of-factly. “What you went through, it may have broke another man. But you’re strong. I have no doubt that you’ll be okay, be back to hunting in no time.”

“Yeah,” Sam cuts in as he reenters the room with his laptop. “You’re Dean fucking Winchester. Chuck’s not giving you enough credit.”

“Thanks, guys,” Dean replies. “You know…I’d say Chuck was right but…I don’t know. I feel okay. Actually okay.”

Sam pauses as he sits back down with them to stare at Dean with a small, hopeful smile. “You’re not just saying that?”

“No,” Dean shakes his head. “I’m actually not.”

“Good,” Sam lets out a relieved breath. “Good.”

It takes a full month after Sam found Dean in his bedroom for Dean to really feel a true resemblance of normal. He always had nightmares, his head was always full of horrible things, and now was no different. Granted, he finds it much like it was after Hell with flashbacks and panic attacks. But now he has the support of everyone around him, which makes a world of difference. It takes him three weeks to stop waking up panting from nightmares, Cas pulling him to his chest with soothing sounds. But nonetheless, there's progress.

Cas and Dean’s relationship is different as well. Any time Dean hints that he wants to get intimate with Cas, Cas carefully turns him down, seemingly forever wanting Dean to take it slow. After this happens a couple of times, Dean begins to think that Cas has changed his mind about them, that he doesn’t want Dean in that capacity any longer, doesn’t want to love a crazy man in that way. Dean is hurt, but can’t make himself feel surprised. He wants to push Cas away, make it clear that Cas wasn’t trapped with Dean if he wanted something else. He plans on talking to Cas that morning—that is, until he’s surprised to see as he happens to look up at just the right time Cas’ look of unabashed lust: pupils large, irises dark, mouth slightly open as he watches Dean pull on a new Henley. His eyes meet Dean’s after a moment and Cas controls his expression into something more akin to caring than want, but it’s too late. Dean throws all caution to the wind, stalks right up to Cas and pushes him back on the bed. 

“Dean—“ Cas weakly protests and Dean straddles him, leans in so their lips are barely brushing. 

“Do you want this?” Dean asks. 

“You need to take it slow, we don’t know the physical repercussions of this,” Cas manages his usual spiel. 

“Castiel,” Dean purrs into his mouth. “Do you want this?”

Cas is silent for a long moment until his arms snake around Dean’s waist and he whispers, “Yes.”

Dean doesn’t wait for further discussion, just presses their mouths together, pushing Cas down onto the bed. He maneuvers them until Cas’ back is pressed against the headboard and Dean is stripping off clothes. He makes short workof his and Cas’ shirt, and adorably wiggles out of his pants and boxers without dignity, ripping Cas’ off with as little ceremony. He straddles Cas again and then pauses. He stares at Cas for a long moment before he says, “Switch with me, I want you to ride me.”

“Ride you?” Cas asks uncertainly, but is already switching places with Dean. 

“Ride my cock,” Dean clarifies as he leans in to plant kisses all along Cas’ chest while Cas settles onto Dean’s lap, his cock gliding against Dean’s in an infuriatingly delicate way. “I want to be inside you.”

“Oh,” Cas replies, voice thick and dark. “Okay.”

Dean reaches down and begins to rub at Cas’ asshole. Cas almost yips in surprise, but instead moans quietly, pressing down against Dean’s fingers. Dean pulls away, grinning as Cas whines slightly. He grabs lube from the bedside table and slicks his fingers for a few moments, warming the lube. When he returns to Cas’ hole, Cas purrs out his pleasure. It doesn’t take long for Dean to work Cas open and slip inside. 

“You’re in control, Cas,” Dean murmurs against Cas’ lips. “We’ll do this however you want.”

Cas stifles a moan with Dean’s lips, as he thrusts back and forth once, very slowly. Dean practically whimpers, craving more friction. Cas raises one hand to cup Dean’s face and rests the other atop his handprint, causing a nice electricity to dance along the connection. Cas pulls back so he can stare into Dean’s emerald eyes as he thrusts slowly forward again. Dean’s never had sex like this, all slow and intense and…real. He doesn’t break Cas’ eye contact, doesn’t want to. He wants to stare into those incredibly blue orbs for as long as the angel will let him. Cas doesn’t pick up the pace, simply slowly rides Dean for what seems like an infinite amount of time while simultaneously being far too short. When Dean can feel his orgasm building, he leans forward, finally breaking the eye contact and kissing Cas deeply. 

“I love you,” he tells the angel and Cas’ own cock bursts at the words, spraying Dean’s stomach with thick, warm cum. Cas’ muscles clench around Dean’s cock and pull Dean over the edge too. Cas falls against Dean’s chest and they both pant against each other for a long time. Eventually they peel apart and Dean drags Cas into the shower for a quick, efficient rinse. After, they return to bed once again, Dean’s back curled into Cas’ chest, Cas’ arms wrapped tightly around him, his fingers trailing lightly over one of the pink scars on Dean’s wrist. Dean stares at the motion unhappily, hating Chuck just a tiny bit for refusing to heal the scar, even now, after a month. Chuck swore that he believed the scar to be a reminder of reality, a way for Dean to keep aware of whether he was in a dream world, or not. And admittedly, in Dean’s nightmares, he never bore the scars on his wrists. But nonetheless, Dean hated the sight of them, hated the reminder of what he viewed as his lowest times. He once told Bobby that he’d been low before, but never so much so that he wanted to throw in the towel. Every time he looks at the scars, though, he is reminded that he’d been there. 

“Are you okay?” Cas breaks Dean from his reverie. 

“I hate the scars,” Dean mutters, turning his arm over in Cas’ hand. Cas’ fingers still, and he takes his hand away, laying it across Dean’s chest. 

“I don’t,” Cas tells him. “You’re alive, and they’re proof.”

“They’re proof that I almost wasn’t,” Dean retorts. 

“Dean, do you view your suicide attempt as a weakness?” Cas asks. 

“I…No…I don’t know,” Dean sighs. He’s glad that his back is turned to Cas so Cas can’t stare at him with his ever perceptive gaze. 

“Because I do not view it as a weakness,” Cas tells him. “I view it as something you survived, something that makes you stronger and tells those around you that you need help. And before you start whining about not needing help, let me remind you that you are no less a warrior, no less an incredibly strong person for accepting help. You’re not alone, Dean.”

Dean sighs. “I thought I was in a dream.”

“My point still stands,” Cas replies. 

Dean sighs again. “I know Cas,” he relents. “I know. And…thank you. For everything.”

“You’re welcome, Dean,” Cas replies, kissing the back of Dean’s neck. “I love you.”

“I know,” Dean huffs. “You too.”

It takes another full month to convince Chuck and Missouri that Dean is alright enough for them to leave. Chuck only goes because Gabriel, to Dean’s slight dismay, agrees to stay with them for a while longer to make extra sure. Missouri is a tearful goodbye.

“Now, remember to make those revitalizing elixirs I showed you,” she tells Dean and Sam. “Dean, they’ll keep you nice and energized without any ill effects as well as working wonders for your brain’s health. Do you hear me, boy?”

“Yes, Missouri,” Dean tells her. “I will make them, I promise.”

“And when he doesn’t,” Sam interjects. “I will.”

“I know, honey,” Missouri says, stretching on her tiptoes to pat Sam’s cheek affectionately. “And you boys need to be careful. And remember to call me and check in! I’m invested now. It won’t be like last time we talked and then you didn’t contact me again for ten years, alright? I expect a weekly call, and to hear from both—“ she looks pointedly at Dean, “of you on these calls, are we clear?”

“Of course,” Sam agrees immediately. 

“Are we clear?” Missouri still stares at Dean. “Because if we’re not, I will have Chuck zap me right back here.”

“We’re clear, Missouri!” Dean laughs. “I’ll call. Weekly is kind of often though…”

“Boy!” Missouri warns and Dean laughs harder, holding his hands up in surrender. 

“Sorry! Okay! Once a week, I swear,” Dean tells her and she narrows her eyes at him but nods. 

With that, she turns to Chuck who makes her disappear without a blink an eye. They all turn to him next and he smiles, but dematerializes with an awkward wave to each of them in turn, promising to stop by in the future to check in. With that, Gabriel, Sam, Dean, and Cas all stand in the library in a short silence. 

“So, Dad’s left us all alone,” Gabriel breaks the silence. “Wanna throw a party?”

“Twister party?” Dean chuckles. 

“Oh my God, let it go!” Sam throws up his arms. 

“Never,” Dean replies. “No…I was thinking more on the lines of, uh, research.”

“Research?” Sam frowns at him. 

“Well, I sort of found us a job,” Dean rubs the back of his neck a little sheepishly. 

“Dean…” Sam starts and Dean holds up his hand. 

“Sam, I get that you’re still worried about me…but I still want to hunt,” Dean tells Sam. “I still want to help people. And…you know, I’m better. I don’t think I’ve had a two month vacation in…well, ever. This was nice and all, but I’m antsy as hell. I need to work.”

“Cas?” Sam asks. 

“I think Dean will be fine,” Cas replies and Dean rolls his eyes. 

“Not that I need your permission,” Dean reminds both of them. “I’ll go alone if you don’t want to go, Sam.”

“Alone?” Cas frowns. “Aren’t I going?”

“Okay, Cas and I will go alone, if you don’t want to go, Sam,” Dean agrees. 

“I’m on board,” Sam rolls his eyes. “But…will you tell us if you need a break?”

Dean scoffs and Sam’s frown gets more severe in response. 

“So, am I just going to stay here then, or do I get an invite too?” Gabriel asks and Dean frowns at him. 

“You want to come on a hunt with us?” he asks with disbelief. 

“Sure,” Gabriel shrugs. “Why not?”

“I think it’ll be a good idea,” Sam agrees and Dean rolls his eyes, looking at Cas, who shrugs. 

“He probably won’t be much of a hindrance,” Cas allows. 

“Okay,” Dean sighs. “Family road trip. Awesome.”

With that, they begin hunting again. A couple more months pass as they travel around the country like the good old days: saving people, hunting things, the family business. After a while, Gabriel leaves and everyone misses him—even Dean, though he’d never admit it. Dean notices how sad Sam is after the archangel disappears and jokes with Cas that maybe Sam had a bit of a crush. Cas tells Dean that he’d love if Sam were to date his brother and Dean thinks he’s missing the point. A year passes and Dean has fewer and fewer flashbacks and panic attacks. When he does, he’s much better at handling them. Overall, it seems like things are back to normal. Except… Dean can’t stop thinking about the future. And more than that, he needs to talk to the one person in the world other than Cas who can help him sort it out. So he corners Sam one day in the library. Cas is in their room with his nose buried in a book and Dean thinks he has some time without having to worry about the angel eavesdropping. 

“I need to talk to you,” Dean plops down in the seat next to Sam and Sam looks up from where his own nose is buried in a book. 

“Uh, alright,” Sam stares at him like Dean’s got something weird on his face. Dean rolls his eyes. 

“Listen…I don’t like talking about this crap, but it’s kinda been driving me crazy,” Dean tells Sam and Sam straightens, pushing the book away from him once placing a bookmark to save his page. He raises his eyebrows at Dean. 

“Okay, what’s up? What’s wrong?” Sam frowns slightly and Dean sighs. 

“So…I’m pretty serious about Cas,” he begins a little shakily, and Sam snorts. 

“Yeah,” Sam nods. “You two have been together for over a year now, I kind of figured that.”

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean snaps, but smiles a little. “Anyway, I’m serious about Cas and I’m pretty sure Cas is serious about me…so I was trying to think about the future, you know?”

“Yeah,” Sam nods. “I get it.”

“And…in our life, well. Our life isn’t normal,” Dean continues, rubbing a hand across his face. “So, you know, I just…I wanted a way to—I don’t know, like, solidify our commitment? God, this sounds so fucking corny.”

“Dean…are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” Sam’s eyes widen and Dean sees he’s resisting a huge grin that tugs at the corners of his mouth. 

“Just…hold on a second, okay?” Dean tells him sternly. “I…Yeah, okay, I was thinking about marriage.”

Sam breaks into a huge grin and he looks on the verge of congratulations when Dean holds up his hand. 

“Which is where the problem lies,” Dean tells him and Sam’s smile fades as he stares questioningly at his brother. 

“Why?” Sam asks. 

“Well, like I was saying, we’re not normal,” Dean points out. “Like, Cas isn’t legally even a citizen, so marrying him legally isn’t an option. I’ve been thinking about this since…I don’t know, months now. I thought maybe I could make him a fake driver’s license so we could go elope in Vegas, or something. But if I do that, why not just…I don’t know, make him a license that says ‘Castiel Winchester’ or something? Then I thought that we could go a really untraditional route and maybe there was some weird marriage spell that we could do that would…I don’t know, magically bond us or something. But with that theory, I realized we sort of already are magically bound. Like, Cas literally left a handprint on me, so a marriage spell seems sort of, I don’t know, redundant? I don’t know, Sam. That’s why I need to talk to you. Help me figure this out.”

“Okay,” Sam nods. “Those are very logical approaches, Dean. So let me ask you this: why do you want to marry Cas?”

“Didn’t I already say that?” Dean frowns at him. 

“Yeah, you said to solidify your commitment,” Sam nods. “But…is that the real reason? Or is it so you have some sort of physical ceremony and title to confirm that Cas will actually stay with you? You want something like a wedding to really prove that Cas, even though he’s an angel, will stay with you forever.”

Dean stares at Sam, angry and very surprised at the accuracy. Sam sighs at the look Dean gives him and rolls his eyes. 

“Dean, I know you better than you think,” Sam points out. 

“Okay, fine,” Dean sighs roughly. “So say you’re right. But it’s not only that. I just…I want to introduce him to people more than just my boyfriend—which is stupid, I know, because we don’t even have friends to introduce him to. I want him to be Castiel Winchester. This is all so…chick flick. I don’t know why I want this.”

Dean groans, dropping his head into his hands for a moment, rubbing his temples. He eventually looks up to see Sam smiling at him softly. 

“You’ve always wanted an apple pie life, Dean,” Sam points out. “It doesn’t surprise me at all that you want to marry Cas. But…do you have to actually go through all the motions? Like, do you want a ceremony? Or do you just want Cas to be your husband?”

Dean scrunches his nose for a moment, but answers anyway. “A husband. I could care less if we read vows or whatever in front of a bunch of people that I probably don’t even really like.”

“Then…why not just buy two rings? Tell him everything that you’ve told me and see what he says?” Sam suggests. 

“Just buy two rings?” Dean scoffs. 

“Yeah,” Sam nods. “Dean…I know that you want something more because you want something to physically confirm Cas’ promise to spend your lives together. But he’s already there, Dean. I mean…I know you hate all this corny stuff, but you don’t see the way he looks at you when you’re not looking. You can’t see what I see because…well, you’re Dean Winchester.”

“Hey!” Dean objects and Sam laughs, shaking his head. 

“All I’m saying is…I get why you want this, I do. But he’s already there, Dean. So, yeah. Just buy two rings, tell him you want to call him husband, tell him you want him to take our last name. And for all intense and purposes, you’ll be married. Like you said, you can’t do it legally, and your soul is already bound to him, already marked by him. You’re practically already married, Dean.”

Dean thinks for a moment, eventually nods. “Okay,” he agrees at length. “I mean, you’re right.”

“I know,” Sam laughs. 

“So what about you, Sammy?” Dean diverts. 

“What about me?” Sam narrows his eyes. 

“Well, I’ve found my little slice of happiness,” Dean shrugs. “I mean…we’re still hunting. But do you still want to stop? Meet a nice girl? Go back to school?”

“No,” Sam replies honestly, shrugging. “I mean, about not hunting and going back to school. I wouldn’t mind meeting a nice hunter or something, getting something like what you have with Cas. But…I don’t want to do the whole apple pie life anymore. We’ve saved the world, and we help people. I like our life, I like hunting with you and Cas. I’m happy, Dean. It makes me even happier that you are too, finally. But I’m good with how we are.”

“Really?” Dean asks, but he’s smiling. 

“Yeah,” Sam nods. “I know our lives are dangerous and we’re always working…but I’m good, Dean.”

“Good, good,” Dean nods, then purses his lips, fighting off a smile. “So…about meeting another hunter or something…does something mean a certain asshole prank-loving archangel?”

Sam laughs, hits Dean shoulder. “God, are you ever going to shut up about that?”

“Hey, you didn’t answer my question,” Dean points out and Sam shrugs, blushing. 

“Like I said…I wouldn’t mind,” Sam replies sheepishly and Dean grins, laughing. 

“I knew it! I _knew_ it!” Dean howls. “We could always call him up, if you want. I mean, Cas has kind of been missing Gabe. He could call him, Gabe could come stay with us for a couple of days…something could happen…”

“No,” Sam says too quickly. “I don’t want it to be so forced! Look, it’s nothing. If I decide I want to further that particular scenario, I can do it my damn self, Dean. I don’t need you and Cas meddling.”

Dean holds up his hands in surrender, laughing. “Alright, alright! We won’t call him down.”

“Good,” Sam says sternly, still blushing. 

“Well, thanks for talking with me, Sammy,” Dean stands, ruffling Sam’s hair. Sam huffs in slight irritation but rolls his eyes fondly. 

“No problem,” Sam laughs. “What are brothers for?”


	12. Chapter 12

It takes Dean quite a while of searching online to find rings that make him smile. He orders them the instant he finds them from a fairly sketchy site that’s undoubtedly run out of some guy’s mother’s basement. It takes almost a month for them to arrive, and another week for Dean to engrave them, along with purifying them in holy water just for good measure. Once he’s perfected them, he places them in a small leather velvet lined box and waits for a moment when he can be alone with Sam to show him. When he gets his chance, he can’t help but grin like an idiot. Sam’s cleaning his gun in the kitchen when Dean walks in. Sam glances up and raises his eyebrows. 

“You look like you’ve either just had good sex—which, ew, don’t need to hear about it—or won the lottery,” Sam informs him and Dean sits across from him. 

“Neither,” Dean shakes his head, pulling the box from his pocket. “I bought the rings.”

“Oh!” Sam grins. “Let me see!”

“What do you think I’m doing, dumbass?” Dean laughs, handing the box to Sam. Sam opens it eagerly and pulls one of the rings from it. He turns it in his hand, examining it closely. 

“So, the majority of it is made of polished iron,” Dean supplies. “But the inside is titanium, and the strips on the edges are silver.”

“Oh my god,” Sam laughs. “So you can punch ghosts in the face.”

“And werewolves!” Dean agrees happily. “I’ll get much better at punching with my left arm, too.”

“Look at you, being romantic and practical,” Sam nods his admiration. 

“Well, what can I say?” Dean laughs. “I’m a catch.”

Sam snorts but nods, still looking at the ring in his hand. “What’s engraved on the inside?”

Dean stares at him a little hesitantly. “Uh…”

“What?” Sam grins. “Is it super sappy?” 

“Shut up,” Dean gripes but doesn’t deny. 

“Oh my god! You’re so adorable!” Sam teases. “But seriously. You have to tell me. Is this enochian?”

“Yes,” Dean confirms. 

“Well, I’ll figure it out if I study it enough anyway,” Sam points out. “But it’d be faster if you just told me.”

Dean sighs, stares down at his hands. “It says ‘To my love and savior, Castiel Winchester’.”

Dean looks up when Sam is silent for too long and he sees his soft smile. “I can’t decide if I should make fun of you or cry because I’m so freaking happy for you, Dean.”

“Oh God,” Dean groans. “Make fun of me.”

“That’s not even that bad, though!” Sam sighs. “I was expecting something a lot sappier. Like, ‘To the man who raised me from perdition and the man I love more than anything in the world. Forever and ever, babe. I’ll always love you.’” 

“God, you’re insufferable,” Dean laughs. “Plus…that would’ve never fit on the band.”

Sam laughs loudly, reaching across the table to slap Dean’s shoulder affectionately. “You’re so corny, I love it.”

“Oh, shut up,” Dean rolls his eyes. 

“So, how are you going to give it to him?” Sam asks. 

“I don’t know,” Dean admits. “Should I make it…like, a grand gesture or something? Should I take him out to dinner? Or…I don’t know, like, on a drive or something? Hot air balloon ride?”

“I think dinner at a nice restaurant,” Sam provides. “Like, a restaurant where you actually have to wear a tie and pay way too much for food.”

“Uh, yeah, no,” Dean shakes his head. “How about I just cook something really nice for him and you get lost for a night?” Dean suggests instead. 

“Alright, that works too,” Sam nods. “Just tell me when you plan on doing it, I’ll make myself scarce, go see a flick in town or something.”

“How about tomorrow night,” Dean replies. 

“So soon!” Sam practically squeals.

“Well, I wanted it to be tomorrow because…” Dean sighs. “It’s September 18th.”

“September 18th?” Sam scrunches up his face as he tries to remember then he goes slack jawed as it dawns on him. “Oh. Oh my God. It’s the day Cas raised you from Hell.”

“I thought it fitting,” Dean shrugs. 

“That’s…that’s really great, Dean,” Sam tells him and Dean is mortified to see Sam’s eyes welling slightly. “I’ll definitely give you guys the Bunker.”

“Good, that’s good,” Dean smiles at his brother, despite the embarrassing almost-tears. “Thanks, you teary-eyed sasquatch.”

“Of course,” Sam laughs. “Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

The next day, Cas is confused when Dean tells him he’s making something special for dinner and that he can’t go into the kitchen or else he’ll ruin the surprise. He’s also confused when Sam tells him that he’s going to go into town and stay the night at a hotel. 

“Are you meeting someone?” Cas inquires and Sam laughs a little. 

“No,” Sam shakes his head. 

“Then would you like us to come with you? We could go after dinner, Dean is apparently making something special.”

“No,” Sam laughs again. “I’m just going to go see some boring foreign film. I’m sure you’d like it, but Dean would hate it. You guys just get an alone night. It’ll be fun.”

Cas frowns, never having before required an alone night with Dean. Dean and Sam’s rooms weren’t right next to each other, so Cas felt as though he and Dean were relatively alone in there. Outside the room, they could go days in the huge Bunker without having to see each other, though they never did since they all enjoyed one another’s company. But perhaps when Sam said alone time, he meant for himself. 

“Okay,” Cas eventually nods. “Have a wonderful time at your foreign film.”

“I will Cas,” Sam nods, heading up the stairs. Halfway up, though, he turns and looks down at Cas again. “And Cas…I just want you to know that I’m really glad you’re a part of our family.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Cas replies, surprisingly touched by the random sentiment. “So am I.”

Sam nods, turns and leaves. Cas settles into the library, book in hand, to wait for dinner to be ready. After about forty minutes of listening to Dean bustle around in the kitchen, Dean comes into the library, smiling fondly at Cas. 

“Hey,” Dean greets. “I’m, uh, just going to make a couple arrangements in here if you don’t mind, real quick.”

“Of course,” Cas agrees and watches as Dean clears a table of everything on top of it. He disappears for a couple of minutes and comes back juggling four candles. He arranges them in the middle of the table and then lights them one by one. Dean disappears again and reappears with what looks like Sam’s iPod stereo. He plugs it in across the room and puts on some music, turning it down enough that it fills the library but does so softly. Finally, he bends down at the liquor table, reaching into a bottom cabinet that Cas has never seen opened before to retrieve two wine glasses. 

“Alright, dinner will be out shortly,” Dean tells Cas with a grin and Cas is dumbfounded. He knows that the music and candles is Dean being romantic, which he certainly appreciates. It’s not the first time Dean’s made a romantic gesture like this, but this time seems different. Dean seems…excited. Cas moves to the table and just as he sits, Dean reappears, caring the two wine glasses now filled with milk and a platter covered by a silver dome. He puts it down in the middle of the table next to the candles. 

“I’ll be right back with plates and stuff,” Dean tells him, and sure enough reappears not seconds later with two plates and utensils, along with two cloth napkins. He sets them down, setting them neatly in front of Cas. After a moment, he does the same in the front of his own seat. Cas stares at him and suddenly realizes how nice Dean is dressed. He wears black slacks with a dark grey button-up tucked in, sleeves rolled up. Cas glances at his shoes and is astonished to see he wears dress shoes as well. 

“Dean, what is going on?” he asks. “Did I forget an anniversary? I’ve seen that is something that happens on TV, although I was unaware we had an anniversary, since our relationship timeline is a little skewed.”

“No, you didn’t miss any anniversaries,” Dean laughs, sitting across from him. “I’ll explain everything. Can you believe that I found this nice silver tray cover in the kitchen? These Men of Letters were some classy mofos.”

“Yes, it’s very…shiny,” Cas nods, still confused. 

Dean laughs, eyes crinkling in a way that makes Cas’ heart skip a beat. “God, I love you. Anyway, I’m glad they had it. It makes it so I can do a big dramatic reveal of our dinner tonight. So, I wanted to make you something fancy, something really special, you know? So, at first, I was going to make a full lobster dinner, because what’s fancier than lobster?”

“Your tone suggests very few things,” Cas supplies and Dean laughs again, nodding. 

“Exactly,” Dean agrees. “But then I thought, well, instead of something we’d have to spend all night fighting our way into in order to eat, why not just make two really good, juicy steaks instead?”

“Also a good option,” Cas nods appreciatively. 

“I thought so too,” Dean agrees. “But then, I thought the dinner should be…I don’t know, more personal. Less about flash and fanciness, and more about something I know you’d really, really enjoy.”

“I like both lobster and steak,” Cas objects and Dean smiles at him. 

“Yes, but wait until my grand reveal,” he tells Cas. “You’ll like this better. So then I was thinking, alright, I know exactly what to make him. But it was too easy, too straight forward. So instead, I decided, what makes everything good even better?”

“I don’t know, Dean,” Cas laughs at his boyfriend’s enthusiasm. “What?”

“Deep frying it,” Dean laughs. “So, I give you…” Dean puts his hand on the handle of the silver dome tray topper dramatically, whisking it away with a flourish and setting it on the other side of the candles. “Deep fried peanut butter and jelly sandwiches!”

Cas looks at the stack of what does, indeed, look like deep fried peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and laughs. “That was worth the dramatics.”

“I know,” Dean agrees, laughing as well. “These are very awesome peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I got super expensive peanut butter from some French brand that the clerk at the store says melts in your mouth. The grape jelly is normal, sorry about that. But I did get very good French bread, too. I made the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, then pinched the edges of the bread together and soaked it in some batter stuff, then deep fried them!”

“I love how excited you are,” Cas laughs. “Why are you so excited?”

“Shush, it will all make sense soon,” Dean waves away the questions. “Then I got the nice wine glasses and filled them with milk, because you need milk with your peanut butter and jelly. That’s a given.”

“Of course,” Cas agrees. 

“So…go ahead and try one, tell me what you think!” Dean enthuses and Cas obliges, taking one of the warm sandwiches and puts it on his plate. 

“Do I eat it with my hands, or should I use the fork and knife you brought me?” Cas asks. 

“Probably the fork and knife,” Dean replies. “Deep fried things tend to be pretty greasy.”

Cas follows Dean’s instructions, cutting into the sandwich with the utensils and raising a bite to his mouth. When he tastes it, he is beyond impressed. It has all the greatness of peanut butter and jelly, as well as the crunch and warmth of being deep fried.

“This is amazing, Dean,” Cas practically purrs and Dean’s face lights up happily as he grabs one for himself. 

“I’m glad you like it,” Dean grins, then cocks his head as a new song comes on. “Oh, I love this song,” he grins. 

“What song is it?” Cas asks. He’s been with Dean for over a year, but he still hasn’t been able to memorize all his music. He can tell what songs are Zeppelin’s now, at least, which Dean views as a huge improvement. 

“Night Moves,” Dean tells him. “Bob Seger.”

“Ah,” Cas nods. “So, are you going to explain what all of this is about now?”

“Yes,” Dean agrees. “So…I love you.”

“Yes,” Cas laughs, nodding. “I know. I love you too.”

“We’re not normal,” Dean moves on abruptly and Cas doesn’t completely understand the transition. “I mean, we’re hunters. You’re an angel. There are many reasons that we’re not normal. But what normal couples do when they want to stay together forever, like…like I’m assuming we do?”

“Yes, forever,” Cas agrees. 

“Right, great,” Dean grins again. “Well, anyway, what normal couples do when they want to be together forever is…well, they get married.”

Cas freezes with his fork halfway to his mouth as he stares across the table at Dean. Dean plows on without pause. 

“And…I want…I want that too, actually,” Dean admits. “But, I mean, like I said, we’re not normal. You’re not technically a citizen so you don’t have any legal documentation, so we can’t get legally married. And even if you did have all that, we’re still hunters. Even my ID that says ‘Dean Winchester’ is one that I made illegally after I lost my real one. So…I mean, I think a legal wedding would be a little unnecessary for us. And we already have a supernatural bond—I mean, you literally marked my soul. I have your handprint on my shoulder. So…what I’m proposing is we just…I don’t know, unofficially declare ourselves married.”

“Unofficially…declare ourselves…married,” Cas repeats back. 

“Yeah,” Dean says, now a little hesitant. “It was Sam’s idea. He pointed out that we’re pretty much already married. But…I don’t know. Even if we don’t have any friends to introduce you to, and even if we use fake names half the time, I still want to be able to say…to say that you’re my…you know, husband. I want you to be Castiel Winchester.”

Cas gapes across at Dean. “You want me to be Castiel Winchester?” he breathes out and Dean nods nervously. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “So…what do you think?”

“Of course,” Cas says after a moment, breaking into a grin. “That’s definitely not where I thought this was going, but of course I want to be your husband! I mean…in my mind, I was kind of already thinking of you in such a way, but I’m glad we’re talking about it. Making it official.”

Dean lets out a relieved breathe, and grins. “Oh, thank God!” he laughs. “Great! That’s great! So, I, uh, have rings. For us, I mean. I know that’s how it would work if we got married more traditionally. If you want them, of course.”

Dean pulls out the box from his back pocket and opens it for Cas to see. He pulls out one ring and holds it out to Cas. “This one’s yours,” he tells him. “They’re identical but I got yours engraved.”

Cas takes it, turning it in his hands so he can read the enochian. “Dean, this is…this is amazing.”

“I also thought I should, uh, do it today,” Dean says. “September 18th. The day you saved me from Hell.”

Cas looks up at Dean and he’s surprised to see the elder Winchester’s eyes are a little misty. “Dean,” Cas breathes, standing and walking around the table so he can pull Dean up and into his embrace. “You’re an amazing man. I love you so much. I would be honored to be your husband.”

“Good,” Dean replies, voice embarrassingly thick. He pulls back and takes the ring from Cas’ hand, taking Cas’ left hand in his own and slipping the band onto Cas’ ring finger. Cas leans over and retrieves Dean’s ring and repeats the procedure on Dean’s left hand. Dean stares at their hands together for a long moment before pulling Cas into a deep kiss. After a moment, Cas pulls away. 

“I have an idea,” Cas tells Dean. 

“Alright,” Dean grins. “Shoot.”

“Well, as I’ve already told you…I want to spend eternity with you,” Cas reiterates. “I…I want to grow old with you.”

“I know,” Dean nods. 

“But as an angel, I won’t physically age as you will,” Cas continues and Dean frowns. 

“Oh…that’s true,” Dean replies. “Well…I mean, that’s fine, right? So long as you won’t mind my getting old and wrinkly? Provided we live that long.”

“Of course I wouldn’t mind your physical aging,” Cas replies. “And we will live that long. But what I’m proposing now is…what if I did grow old with you?”

“What do you mean?” Dean narrows his eyes a little. 

“Well…what if I gave up my grace? So that I could grow old with you,” Cas finishes and watches as Dean’s frown deepens as he thinks about it. 

“No,” Dean shakes his head. “You’d be vulnerable.”

“Only as vulnerable as you already are,” Cas points out. “I could die of everything you could, yes. But I’m also a great fighter. I mean, you’ve taught me how to hunt with you. I was a warrior, a heavenly soldier. I can take care of myself. And I would grow old with you. I mean…the lingering traces of my grace would still allow me about thirty years of a longer life span than the average human, but nonetheless. We could grow old.”

“But…but what about when you die?” Dean asks. “Say we live to be one hundred and ten and you die peacefully in your sleep one night. What then?”

“Well, that’s certainly not what would happen,” Cas shakes his head. “No, we would keep my grace safe. Here, or hidden somewhere no one would ever find it. Then…if I die before you, which, if we go naturally will probably not happen, then you can return my grace to my body. It will heal my vessel, and I will be able to stay with you until you pass. However, if you go before me, than I can return my grace to my body and simply join you in Heaven, where we can spend the rest of our time together, infinitely.”

Dean frowns still. “Would that…would that really work?” 

“I don’t see why it wouldn’t,” Cas replies. 

“And what if we die violently, away from the Bunker or wherever we hide your grace?” Dean counters. 

“Then we’ll…we’ll tell my father our situation,” Cas retorts. “We’ll ask him, in the event of my dying prematurely, to put my grace back in my vessel so I can join you in Heaven no matter what.”

“You think he would do that?” Dean asks, unconvinced. “I mean, no offense to Chuck, but he is the same father that ignored us for years.”

“Yes, well, perhaps we could tell Gabriel as well,” Cas agrees. “We’ll tell them both, and at least one of them will return my grace to my vessel. We’ll tell Sam as well, perhaps even Missouri or another of our friends. We’ll make sure everyone knows what to do in the event that I’m killed. I will join you in the afterlife, Dean. When I say forever, I mean forever. I hope you do as well.”

“I do,” Dean nods. “But I just don’t know how I feel about your being so vulnerable. You wouldn’t be able to heal yourself.”

“Nor you or Sam,” Cas agrees. “But really, Dean. How many times in the year we’ve been hunting together have you or Sam had me heal your wounds?” 

“Alright, only a couple times,” Dean admits. 

“Exactly,” Cas agrees. “We can go to hospitals like other hunters. We could do this. We could grow old together.”

Dean stares at Cas for a long moment then sighs. “Alright,” Dean agrees. “If you really want to give up your grace for me, if you really think it’s worth it.”

“It is,” Cas agrees without hesitation. 

“When will you do it? Will you do it yourself?” Dean asks. 

“Perhaps we should ask my father to do it,” Cas shrugs. “We could try calling to him tonight. I don’t want to be immortal any longer. I want to grow old with my husband.”

Dean’s slight frown grows into a small, soft smile at that. “Do you think he’d come if we called?” 

“Of course I would,” came Chuck’s voice from behind them, where he sat munching on one of the sandwiches from the platter. “Hello, Dean. Hello, Castiel. I believe congratulations are in order.”

“Thanks,” Dean replies. “How long have you been sitting there?”

“Oh, I’ve just arrived,” Chuck tells him. “I heard you call me, so here I am. So, Castiel. You want me to remove your grace.”

“Yes,” Cas agrees. “I want to be human.”

“Well, I can certainly do that for you,” Chuck obliges immediately. “Let me just finish this sandwich. Castiel, why don’t you go grab a vile that we can store your grace in?”

Cas nods and heads away from Dean with a squeeze of his hand. 

“Well, Dean, I must say,” Chuck says, waving the sandwich appreciatively. “These are damn good. Had you not killed Death, he would’ve really appreciated these.”

“Yeah…” Dean says awkwardly. “Real shame that he didn’t get to try them.”

“Yeah,” Chuck agrees. “Anyway, again, congratulations. Admittedly, this is not a traditional wedding, but, well, you two have been essentially married from the start, so I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, Chuck,” Dean smiles a little. 

“I won’t pretend I’m not a little insulted that you didn’t come to me for my blessing, but then again, considering who I am, maybe that would’ve been a little presumptuous of you. Anyway, I’m glad you’re doing well,” Chuck adds. “This…this taking Cas’ grace so he can grow old with you. I hope it makes up for my mangling your soul.”

“Chuck, I volunteered for that, remember?” Dean tells him. 

“I know,” Chuck nods. “And you’re a noble man. But I still want to…I don’t know. Make up for the fact that we couldn’t come up with a better solution.”

“Hey,” Dean shrugs. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Chuck sighs. “Another reason I am in your debt.”

“So, you won’t mind…returning Cas’ grace to his vessel if he dies, will you? If we die prematurely, will you make sure my angel makes it to Heaven with me?”

“Yes,” Chuck agrees immediately. “You have my word.”

“Thank you,” Dean nods and Cas reappears with the vile. Chuck stands and goes to Castiel. Before either Dean or Cas can say anything, Chuck points to Cas and Cas freezes with his mouth slightly open. A thin trail of pearly white, glowing grace begins to spill from his mouth and Chuck gathers it in the vile, corking it when all is done. 

“That was…quick,” Dean admires. 

“And painless,” Chuck agrees, handing the vile to Cas. “Now keep that safe. I’ll come for it in the event that you die before Dean. But try to grow old, Castiel. You two…you both deserve it.”

Without another word, he disappears. Cas looks to Dean and Dean looks stunned. 

“I’m going to grow old with you,” Cas breathes out.

“Yeah,” Dean goes to him, wrapping his arms around his waist. “We’re going to grow old together. What do you think of that, Castiel Winchester?”

Cas grins. “I can’t think of a better way to spend my life than with you, Dean Winchester.”


End file.
